A Regular Life
by acro acro
Summary: Draco's mouth popped open. He'd seen hair like that before in his other life, all curling golden-brown madness, rippling and crackling with an intensity that matched the gold fire in its owner's eyes. Her eyes. Her…Mione. Draco stumbled forward on disbelieving feet. "Granger?"
1. Chapter 1 Supression

Author's Note: I own no person, no place, no thing. If you recognize it, it probably belongs to Ms. Rowling or some other awesome super-human.

Chapter 01 Suppression

Draco Malfoy stood staring straight forward as his sentence was read aloud. He knew full well that, because the Wizengamot had all but promised to make an example of him, there were photographers and journalists in swarms no more than twenty paces from him, slathering to capture his physical reaction to his punishment.

But Malfoy's were nothing if not stoic, so his spine stayed straight and his face remained impassive, even bored. Draco blandly wondered if, despite risking and losing his family while spending the last two years of the Second Wizarding War in the secret service of the Order of the Phoenix alongside his Godfather Severus, he'd be handed a great big Dementor Kiss for his sacrifice. Wouldn't be much of a surprise, the members of the Wizengamot were nothing if not biased against Death Eaters.

Or the children of Death Eaters, for that matter. Supposedly Theo Nott was sentenced to ten years in Azakaban just for continuing to live in his family's home while Voldemort and his camp used Nott Manor as a base of operation for the final few days of the war. Merlin, it's not like he could have left if he'd tried! Ten years in Azakaban just for hiding under the bed while the Boogyman's in town? What utter, prejudiced, bollocks.

"Draco Abraxas Malfoy, you have admitted to taking the Dark Lord's Mark and serving in His Army. The sentence for this alone would be life in Azkaban Prison. For your role in conspiring to create covert access into Hogwarts Castle, the home of Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, which at the time of the break in was the home of more than three hundred children and nearly one hundred adults, the sentence would be no less than fifty years in Azkaban. For your role in the murder of Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, the sentence would be no less than fifty years in Azkaban." The Head of the Wizengamot, Ms. Mafalda Hopkirk, watched Draco closely as she recited his crimes. She couldn't help but let compassion leak into her voice as she continued.

"Mr. Malfoy, while these crimes are in themselves, enough to land you in prison for the rest of your life, we must take into consideration some other facts. First of all, you are only now, just nineteen years old. Life in prison would be very long indeed for someone your age. You took the Dark Mark under threat of death by your own father, and while you were under-age. You came up with the scheme to allow Death Eaters into Hogwarts Castle under threat of death to yourself and your family by the Dark Lord himself. And last, and if I may say, most importantly of all, you redeemed yourself in aligning with the Order of the Phoenix first as a spy, giving crucial information that SAVED LIVES, Mr. Malfoy, but you've also spent the past two years of your life directly fighting the Dark Lord within the ranks of the Order. I think I speak for the rest of the Wizengamot, and I hope the magical community, when I say to you, thank you, Draco."

The uproar behind Draco's back was instantaneous and very, very distracting. Bulbs flashed, reporters shouted, citizens in attendance screamed their fury. Draco heard a few cheers and cries of joy, but not many. Not enough to dampen the cacophony of those seeking vengeance on Lucius Malfoy's son. Bloodthirsty, they sounded. Draco looked up at Ms. Hopkirk as she banged her gavel and shouted down the audience.

"IF THIS AUDIENCE CANNOT SILENCE ITSELF BY THE TIME I FINISH SPEAKING I WILL EMPTY THIS COURTROOM BEFORE I FINISH GIVING MR. MALFOY HIS SENTENCE!" Ms. Hopkirk's magically magnified voice nearly blew Draco's hair back, but his face remained impassive. Draco mentally crossed his fingers, but unfortunately the noise behind him stopped before Ms. Hopkirk did.

"That's better. Oh, and one more outburst like that, and I will be forced to confiscate all recordings of these proceedings for twenty-four hours. Is this understood?" Ms. Hopkirk gazed down on a now silent crowd. Apparently no one wanted to lose their job for not getting the news of Draco's sentence out to the wizarding community within thirty minutes of the end of his trial. Draco smirked to himself. No indeed, this after all was THE news story of the year; the sole surviving heir to the famous Malfoy estate and fortune was about to have his extremely wealthy arse thrown in Azkaban for the rest of his life!

Wasn't he?

"Mr. Malfoy," Ms. Hopkirk began again in a much gentler voice, which in itself startled Draco more than any other noises in the past few moments.

"My colleagues and I can't help but feel compassion for a young man who was led down such a hard road by his own parents, and we can't help but feel that, given a better upbringing, you would never have made the mistakes you did. Not crimes, Draco, mistakes."

Draco stared at Ms. Hopkirk, and he realized belatedly that his mouth had fallen slightly open. He saw her eyes soften as she met his gaze, and the grim lines on her face smoothed out a little as she recited his true sentence.

"Draco Abraxas Malfoy, you are hereby sentenced to five years of Magic Suppression and exile from the Wizarding Community of Britain. It is the wish of the Wizengamot that in the five years you spend in the Muggle world, you will be able to learn compassion and empathy for those who the Ministry of Magic and the Order of the Phoenix fought so hard to protect from persecution by the late Dark Lord. Your family fortune and estate will be frozen for the duration of this time, outside of your own personal accounts at Gringotts Bank. It is not the wish of this court, however, that you while away your five years in some solitary mansion away from all humanity, Mr. Malfoy. You will be required to either enroll in a Muggle higher education school, or to seek employment within the Muggle Community."

Draco's mouth stayed firmly sealed, but inwardly his jaw was hanging on the floor.

What the fuck?

Five years of Magic WHAT?

Exile?

Muggle School?

A JOB?

How in Merlin's name did these Wizengamot wanker's expect him to live without magic? In the Muggle world?

Alone?

What the FUCK?

He blinked a couple times and realized his mind had wandered while Ms. Hopkirk had finished speaking and dismissed the audience and reporters. A Bailiff walked up and beckoned Draco to follow him out of the courtroom, to the doorway situated under the Wizengamot's raised stadium-seats, and down a quiet hallway. At the first door on the right, Draco was led into a small, plain room that was obviously a part-time office for some member of the Court, gauging by the presence of a desk, several chairs, a few files on the desktop and a complete lack of any other adornments. Draco had just enough time to make this assumption before Mafalda Hopkirk swept into the room and sat behind the desk.

"Please sit down, Mr. Malfoy." She said this as pleasantly as if they were having a tea party, and Draco's earlier disbelief and shock gave way to extreme confusion as he took a seat in the nearest chair. The Bailiff tapped his wand on Draco's magically bound wrists as soon as he was seated, and Draco couldn't help but rub his liberated wrists while he frowned at Ms. Hopkirk.

"Ms. Hopkirk, if you don't mind my-" Draco began, but she put her hand out, palm facing him, and smiled.

"Draco, if you don't mind, I'll speak first and ease your apparent and understandable confusion. I'm going to go through the facts and your options, and you and I will be working on a plan of action for your exit from the Wizarding Community. From this moment forth for the next five years, I will be acting as your Counselor, of sorts, or your Probation Officer, I suppose. Draco please understand, the main reason why the Wizengamot has chosen this sentence for you is to remove you from the spotlight, in a sense, and from those who would most emphatically seek revenge on a person who we really and truly don't believe deserves to hang, if you will, for the crimes of his late parents. Additionally, I sincerely hope that in the course of the next five years of immersion in the Muggle Community, you will be able to fully shed your old skin and return to the Magical Community as a whole new kind of Malfoy."

Draco frowned in confusion. "What do you-", but she cut him off again, still smiling.

"Look Draco, please believe me when I say that when the measurement of your deeds was weighed by the Wizengamot, we have found you not guilty of all crimes. And we would have set you on your merry way if you had been an average young wizard. I know this is a lot of information for you to take on Draco, but you must understand that you are in a unique position. As the sole heir to such a large, magically diverse, and profitable empire, there are going to be a lot of… individuals… that will want to seek you out. They would endeavor to exploit you, to punish you, to corrupt you, all for their own personal gain or for their cause. And of course, there's revenge. Simply put, if you stayed here, you'd either be dead or imprisoned by the dregs of Voldemort's associates, or captured and tortured…. No, all things considered, you really are safer disappearing for a few years. Since we have publicly frozen your family's assets, there will be no way for corrupt individuals to manipulate you or your family's business holdings."

"Not even me, it would seem. For five years. Five fucking years." Draco moaned as he leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees as he bowed his head.

"Merlin, what a fucking nightmare. How in the Hell are you going to keep all these supposed attackers from attacking me out in the Muggle world? And what, in Merlin's name, is Magic Suppression? If it sounds like what I think it is, it sounds like the Wizengamot is going to dump me outside the Leaky fucking Cauldron, wandless and without a way to DEFEND MYSELF!"

"Draco, please, calm down, and my Goodness, watch your language!" Ms. Hopkirk actually looked shocked.

"How the Hell can I calm down? How can you sit there and smile at me and spout on about protecting me from attack and manipulation when I'm being chucked out on my arse? Alone! I've probably spent all of two hours in muggle London in my entire life!" Draco's hands gripped his knees tightly as he fought his rising panic. He was rapidly starting to seriously dislike this witch.

"Mr. Malfoy! We are not, as you say, chucking you out all alone! For Merlin's sake, I already told you, I'll be acting as your Counselor for the next five years. I'll be your liaison between the Wizarding and Muggle worlds. Like I said earlier, you and I are going to sit here and come up with a plan, and we're going to implement it. We're going to transfer your funds to a Muggle bank in London, and we're going to find you a place to live. You are going to decide whether to enroll in University or find a job, and we're going have all of this worked out before you leave tonight."

Ms. Hopkirk got up from her desk and came to sit next to Draco, who immediately stiffened and sat up straighter.

"Draco, this is a wonderful opportunity for you, dressed up for the public as a punishment nearly as wretched as spending five years in Azkaban. You have so much potential to make a huge impact in our community Draco, whether for good or for ill. You are simply too powerful, and too vulnerable, and much too young to be thrown into the burden of heading the Malfoy Empire on your own."

Draco shook his head. "The Wizengamot is manipulating my life just as much now as any outside force could! You're taking my life from me! For Salazar's Sake, I've only got about two hundred thousand Galleons in my Gringott's account! Five years! I'll be twenty-four before I can access any more. What-"

"Well I suggest you get yourself a job then, Mr. Malfoy!" Ms. Hopkirk's voice got very sharp just then, and when Draco cut his eyes over to her he found a very displeased, very matronly looking witch glaring at him.

"I'll have you know, Mr. Malfoy, that there are a great deal of wizards and witches in this world that don't see that many Galleons in their life, let alone in their Gringott's account on any given day. And for your information, the current Galleon-to-Pound exchange rate is 1:10.025, meaning that your measly two hundred thousand is worth roughly two million, twenty five thousand Pounds. That, Mr. Malfoy, will get you along just fine for five years. You can even pay for your own school tuition and purchase a home if you want, with Pounds to spare. As long as you don't fritter it away on ridiculous luxury items, there is no reason to believe money will be a problem for you." Ms. Hopkirk shook her head and proceeded to change the conversation's focus.

"Now, if you don't mind, I would like to explain the Magic Suppression and start working out your exit plan." Ms. Hopkirk stood and leaned over her desk to retrieve two of the folders, and sat back down next to Draco, allowing him the opportunity to read through the contents.

/…./

Draco's exit plan included a change of clothing, a disillusionment charm, covert side-along apparition, a briefcase full of paper Muggle money, and the selection from a paper map of one of five towns that he could settle in.

All five communities, each in different counties spread across England, all had at least two squibs or other magically-suppressed individuals living there. The community Draco selected, Little Whinging, he chose merely because it was the furthest to the south, and situated closer to London than any of the others. Hell, there had even been a village to the northeast of his family's estate in Wiltshire, but he didn't fancy spending five years that close to his family's ancestral home, and not be able to even find it to burn it to the fucking ground.

Standing in the changing room right down the hall from Mafalda's court-side office, Draco appraised his new clothing distastefully. He had seen Potter and his cronies in these kinds of jumpers before, hooded with a front pocket that he could stick his hands through like an old fashioned ladies' hand muff. And the dark navy woven cotton trousers, _jeans_, they were called, looked stiff and heavy. Cheap. It all looked cheap. He sat down on the wooden bench to remove his sleek, black Italian leather shoes and reached for the blue and white canvas and rubber shoes with bright white laces. _All-Star_, they read on a rubber label stuck on the heels. Shameless advertising? How utterly gauche.

All trussed up in his itchy new muggle gear, Draco left the room without looking at his reflection in the mirror, not wanting the view to burn into his memory. His last opportunity to look at his reflection as a wizard and he had no intention of taking it.

Ms. Hopkirk was sitting at her desk again when he walked back into her office. Draco felt his heart rate increase exponentially when he saw his familiar and long missed wand lying in front of her on her desk.

"Well Draco, this last bit we do here is going to be by your own hand. You see, no one can take your magic from you. It has to be self-inflicted."

Mafalda picked his wand up by the tip and extended her arm, passing his wand, handle first, to him. He gratefully accepted it, even knowing that what he had to do now would separate him from this… this _part_ of him, as essential as his arms and legs… he'd missed the feeling of having his wand in his hand. Wandless magic was difficult, and while he'd mastered a few simple, albeit life-saving spells, there was nothing so self-affirming as holding one's own wand. With his wand, Draco knew his worth as a wizard. Spending the last few weeks without it had been agonizing to say the least. And now, well, five years was nothing like a few weeks. And no amount of practicing was going to make wandless magic come out of him once his magical core was removed.

Would it hurt? Would he be weaker? Draco imagined this would be similar to losing at least three quarters of his lungs. He'd barely be able to breathe, and no amount of rationing oxygen could make him stronger. There would be no escaping, no fixing, and no healing from this wound for five miserable years.

"All right now, Mr. Malfoy. With Magical Suppression, your magical core will be extracted from your body and stored in your wand. Essentially your wand will become a part of your body that will remain here at the Ministry. Don't worry, it will be in a locked vault that you and I alone will have the keys to access. And we have to use them simultaneously to open the vault. Your magical core has certain physical characteristics that have always been a part of you, even before your magic manifested in your youth, and once it's removed you will notice that your physical appearance will change. This varies from person to person, depending on the strength of the individual and the way each person's magic manifests itself in their appearance. Some people experience eye-color changes, skin texture, hair color and texture changes, and a general change of their body's chemical makeup. Your body's natural immune system may change as well. You may find yourself with allergies or other illnesses that your magic has always defended your body from. I have a Healer on hand to do a full medical sweep before we set you loose though." Here Mafalda actually smiled at him, as if she were sharing a joke.

Draco felt nausea well up inside him. This sounded much, much worse than losing lung function.

"I'm going to be weak? I'm going to look… different? I'm going to get sick?" Draco was horrified by the cruelty that was being heaped on him. There was nothing that he'd done in his life that warranted this kind of torture.

"Not necessarily, Draco. Like I said, this manifests itself differently in different people. And we won't know until we try. Now, the incantation is _Magus Eripe. _ Fairly simple, I know, but quite effective. Just aim your wand at your sternum, right under your heart." Mafalda stood and walked over to Draco, helping him to properly aim his wand at the base of his sternum.

"Fucking hell." Draco muttered. His hands were shaking. He did NOT want to do this.

"This fucking sucks!" He shouted. Mafalda jumped, startled. Draco had been rather quiet about the whole thing since he'd returned from changing his clothing, so much so that she'd thought he'd reconciled himself to his future. Hmm, perhaps not so much, then. She sympathized with him, really. The boy had just lost his mother, his father was in prison, and while he'd helped win the War, he'd lost all of his friends, his fortune, and essentially, his freedom. Now he was losing an intricate part of his physical being. And he was, after all, just a boy. The War had aged them all, but really, the children who'd fought in the War had aged the most. They had lost so much. Innocence, security, faith…

In the end, a young boy the same age as Draco had been forced to sacrifice his own life to put an end to the War. And while the entire Wizarding World was grateful for Poor Harry Potter's sacrifice, he was, in the end, a child who'd died. Mafalda fervently hoped that Draco could see one day how much she and the entire Wizengamot wished to protect him from that same fate. They'd already altered the memories of the entire courtroom to believe that Draco was leaving Britain to live on the Continent in one of his family's homes. According to the news that was probably already spreading across the Wizarding Community, Draco would be continuing his education at a Muggle University somewhere in France. Since his father's family was French, and Draco spoke passable French, this shouldn't be a big stretch of people's imagination to believe.

Hiding Draco in plain sight, so that she could keep a close eye on him, at least partially ensured his safety for the next five years. When he picked Little Whinging, of the five choices he'd been given, Mafalda hoped that this selection proved that she and the Wizengamot had indeed, made the best decision for Draco's life. Serendipity or fate or sheer luck would land him in Poor Harry Potter's home town. Over the next five years, Mafalda sincerely hoped Draco would be able to fully grasp not only what Potter, the Order and the Ministry had worked so hard to protect, she hoped that he would be able to shuck off any latent inclination towards his father's ways. What the Ministry absolutely did not want, and was trying to avoid with Draco's unconventional sentence, was a Second Dark Lord. Too many of Draco's father's friends were still out there, lost and looking for a new leader.

Would five years be enough? One thing Mafalda was pretty sure of, was that Draco had joined the Order under Severus Snape's tutelage out of a driving need to thwart the Dark Lord, simply to save his own hide, as well as his mother's. His prejudices, however, were an unknown factor here. Draco had worked closely with Potter's gang for the past two years, but again, had enough comraderie formed to break down Draco's unbelievably skewed cultural views? Ms. Hermione Granger was one of the few members of the Order to keep up communication with Draco while he was under his house arrest. Mafalda wondered if that was out of compassion for Draco's wretched situation with his Mother, who had suffered and eventually died horribly from a collection of years of abuse and a few strategically placed curses from her own husband's hand, or if the two former classmates had formed an actual friendship….

Or more? Probably not more. Ms. Granger, being Muggle-born, had more sense that to mix up with someone like Draco. Plus, she was involved with young Mr. Weasley, wasn't she? Yes, Mafalda was sure she'd seen pictures of them in The Prophet. At Poor Harry Potter's funeral, at the Tonks-Lupin funeral, at… well, a lot of funerals.

Draco had his eyes clenched shut, and was currently digging the tip of his wand into the base of his sternum, as she'd directed.

"It's not going to hurt Draco. I promise. Anything that we've learned from other's experiences has been that the incantation brings a feeling of lightheadedness, and maybe a little nausea. But no pain." Mafalda had her hand on Draco's shaking shoulder.

"Now, the incantation, again, is _Magus Eripe_. _Magus Eripe_." Mafalda squeezed his shoulder. She was surprised to see a tear leak out of the corner of his tightly closed eye.

Draco wished he could escape this. Hate, blood, death, loss, War… Mother…. There was so much to want to escape from. His home, his life, his family, his past, his identity, his future. It was all a fucking endless nightmare. Fuck it. At this rate he'd probably be dead within a month.

"_Magus Eripe_," he spat from between his clenched teeth.

Then he gasped as his wand sank more than an inch into his chest. It didn't hurt. But it felt bloody weird. His body began to heat up. He felt like all of his blood and energy was converging in his chest. He glanced down to see his wand… changing color? The deep black of the Hawthorne was bleaching gray, then lighter, finally to a gleaming pale silver. The energy and heat in his body pulled harder into his chest, emptying into his wand. Finally, with a dull pop, his wand pulled free from his chest.

Salazar's Soul. His wand looked like a fucking spike. A silver, metal spike. Like a damned weapon. Draco's head spun. This is what his magical core looked like? A weapon? What kind of person did that make him? Foggily he heard Ms. Hopkirk saying his name, as his hand opened and his wand, the fucking metal spike that it now was, fell to the floor. Draco dropped to his knees. Black spots. Waves rushing in his ears. He pressed his head to the cool wood floor. He did not want to vomit, but he could feel bile rising.

"Sick.." he rasped. Ms. Hopkirk, intelligent woman she was, Summoned a rubbish bin which he quickly grabbed and deposited his morning coffee and toast into.

Groaning, Draco shoved aside the bin and lay down flat on the floor. He curled into a fetal position, eyes still squeezed shut and hands clasped around his stomach. Mafalda _scurgified _the rubbish bin, and then, laying a hand on Draco's twitching shoulder, spoke quietly.

"Okay now, Draco. The worst has passed. I am going to call the Healer to give you a check over, and as soon as you're ready to walk, it will be time for us to go." With that, she opened the door and exited the room.

Draco rolled onto his back once he heard the door shut. He opened his eyes and looked up at the ceiling. He did a quick mental check of his faculties. Sight, sound, touch, taste… _ugh_… his mouth tasted like acid. He felt different though. Tired. He felt languid, lazy. After an enormous mental effort, he heaved himself into a sitting position just as the door opened to reveal Ms. Hopkirk and a Healer in light green robes.

"Well now, Mr. Malfoy. Are you still feeling dizzy? Sick?" Draco shook his head to clear it, and then shook it again in answer to the Healer's questions.

"Do you think you can stand, or would you rather sit? Either way works for me, dear." The Healer said as she pulled her wand from an interior pocket in her robe. Draco saw Ms. Hopkirk bend down to retrieve his wand. Funnily enough, Draco had no urge to touch the thing. It was so fucking scary looking it made him sick to look at it. Draco averted his eyes and cautiously rose to his feet.

"Good! Good, Mr. Malfoy. You're recovering nicely, then. Now, just a quick wave and I'll be able to diagnose any allergies or other ailments that you will need to be aware of. Weak veins, heart issues, and whatnot can come up with this spell, as well as the condition of your immune system and any allergies your magical core has protected you from." The Healer talked as she waved her wand up and down as she paced slowly around Draco's body.

"Hmm, no heart or brain function issues. That's good. No circulatory issues. All internal organs functioning normally. Hmm, digestive. Well, Mr. Malfoy, you are now Lactose Intolerant. This means your first allergy that we have come across is an allergy to dairy. No cheese, no milk, no yogurt. All right? Not life threatening, but it would certainly bother your stomach and would also aggravate your immune system and any other allergies that come up. Now, lung functions are good, and your skin in good health, in fact, I think you'll find you're not as sensitive to the sun as you used to be Mr. Malfoy." The Healer walked in circles around Draco, occasionally focusing her waving wand on small areas of his torso.

"Well, it appears that you have a cat allergy. Not life threatening unless you try to inhale or eat one, and I'm sure you'll manage to avoid that. Oh, here's one that might be a bother. Strawberries. No strawberries for you, Mr. Malfoy." The Healer finished her pacing and looked at him expectantly.

"Cats, dairy, strawberries. All off-limits. Other than that, you seem to be in perfect health." The Healer smiled at Draco. Then she retrieved his wand from Mafalda and looked at it closely.

"Oh my, yes. I can see why your health is so good, but why you look so different now," she tutted to herself as she rolled the creepy silver spike in her hands.

Draco frowned. He looked down to his chest, then raised his hands to inspect them. His skin color was… odd. Not so pale, not so, _luminescent_. Merlin, that sounded so feminine. His skin color was duller. That was it. And his fingers didn't seem so tapered and thin. They looked more… masculine? He rolled his eyes as he brought his hands up to his head and ran them through his sleek hair.

Which was not so sleek anymore. Draco's mouth fell open.

"Mirror," he barked.

Sympathetically, Mafalda transfigured a paper from her desk into a large handheld mirror, then handed it over. Draco was utterly _shocked_. His face! His hair! He barely looked like a Malfoy anymore!

His once baby-fine, silver blond hair was now a darker, straw colored blond. And it wasn't so baby-fine anymore. It was coarser. And it almost had a tiny bit of a wave. Yuck! The skin on his face, like that on his hands, was a duller, darker color. Yes, he could see why the Healer said he wouldn't have sun sensitivity issues. His eyes, too, were darker. Gone was the Malfoy silver, replaced by a dark slate. And overall, his face was less… Sharp…

Draco shuddered. Now he could see why his wand looked so unbelievably creepy. All the sharp angularity of his face and body had been softened, squared off, dulled and darkened.

He looked… Bloody _COMMON_.

Mafalda and the Healer were both nodding their heads and smiling.

"Yes, this makes perfect sense. It seems that most of your magical core was attached to your physical characteristics. You're lucky, really. You'll have an easier time assimilating into the Muggle culture without the health issues that I've seen happen to some people in your situation." Mafalda patted Draco on the arm. He still hadn't said anything yet. What was she expecting? A bloody _Thank You_?

"Well, thank you, Madam for coming in to see Draco. As you know, he's got quite a bit of travel ahead of him, so we'd best get prepared to head out." Mafalda shook the Healer's hand, and, pocketing Draco's wand, led the woman to the door. Once the Healer was gone, Mafalda busied herself organizing and closing the folders still lying on her desk. Then she came over and gently pried the mirror out of Draco's frozen hands.

Draco frowned and focused his gaze on Ms. Hopkirk.

"It's time to go, Draco. We still need to lock up your wand before we can leave. Put your hood up now, so I can disillusion you." With a tap of her wand, Draco felt the cold water feeling drip down his body. The last touch of magic he'd feel for the next five fucking years.

To Be Continued.


	2. Chapter 2 Damages

Author's Note: I own no person, no place, no thing – just the plot. If you recognize it, it probably belongs to Ms. Rowling or some other awesome super-human.

Chapter 02 Damages

Hermione sat in the uncomfortable chair in Ms. Hopkirk's secondary office under the Wizengamot courtroom. She'd elected to meet with Ms. Hopkirk here because of the privacy, since she would be able to exit the Ministry building and the entire Wizarding Community without being seen by anyone in the public. As far as anyone would know, she would be in Australia with her parents. No one but she, Ms. Hopkirk, and two Healers at St. Mungo's knew that her parents were now in a long term nursing facility in Sussex.

It was really quite nice, at the nursing home. Her share of Harry's estate made it possible for Hermione to pay upfront for ten years for a nice spacious suite for her parents, with a view of the ocean. Very peaceful. A better place for them, really. And not too far from her new flat in Surrey. She could pop down on visit them on the weekends and holidays.

Not that they would care. Her parents didn't even know who she was.

Ms. Hopkirk was talking. "Now Ms. Granger, I understand that while you have been through a lot during the war, and that you want to be close to your parents to assist in their long term care, I want to make sure you understand that having your magic Suppressed means that you will be leaving your wand and your magic here. At the Ministry. You won't be able to get it back without coming back here, which means you will have to contact us via Muggle post and request a meeting to retrieve your wand. And while that is one of the faster Ministry beaurocratic processes," here Ms. Hopkirk stopped and smiled slyly at Hermione, "it could still take up to a week or longer to retrieve your wand. Are you sure you don't want to just take it with you and just store it in a vault or bank safety box somewhere close to your new home?"

"Oh, no, thank you Ms. Hopkirk. I think that it would be safe to say that I have had enough magic for my lifetime, and the best thing that I can do for myself and my family at this point is to walk away before I have to witness or experience anything else." Hermione tried to stay as calm and level as possible, but it was possibly the saddest statement she'd ever made in her life.

For so many years, she had loved her magic, and this world around her had piqued her curiosity and thirst for knowledge like nothing else she'd ever known. But there had been too much suffering, too much loss.

And now, well.

Now Hermione Granger was going to pull up her big girl pants and get on with her originally scheduled life. Maybe go to University or get a job with a book dealer.

Ms. Hopkirk nodded sadly. 'The poor girl, it really has been too much,' she thought to herself. Then she pulled out a map of Southern England and poked Surrey with her wand until it expanded to show the small community of Little Whinging. Hermione looked down to see the trees surrounding the great park gently swaying in the wind. Their dark green leaves were tinted in blushing reds and oranges and yellows, signifying the upcoming season change.

'It's a good time of year to make a change and get settled before the cold sets in.' Hermione thought. She would have enough time to get her flat furnished and get all of the security in place before the first leaves fell off the trees. Then, she could… Relax? Read? Maybe she'd pick up her old violin again…

"Now, I'm sure you're aware of the late Mr. Potter's former residence here on Privet Drive. Just down from his home there's a nice woman, Ms. Figg. Did you ever meet her? No? Well a lovely woman, really, good company. She's a squib you know, helped him with that dreadful dementor attack on him and his cousin a few years back… Anyway, dear, the point being there are actually several squibs and other like-minded former witches and wizards in Little Whinging and the surrounding areas. So if you do ever run into any trouble, or need a quicker contact route to the Ministry than muggle-post, you can always call on their assistance. What with your acts of bravery in the War, I don't think you'll have a hard time getting the help you may need. Order of Merlin, First Class; that really is quite an accomplishment, Ms. Granger! Now, where was that list?"

Ms. Hopkirk prattled on about the names and addresses of different squibs living around Hermione's new home as she looked for the name and address listing she had made up to give Hermione. It was around here somewhere, maybe in one of her desk drawers?

"Oh dear I must have left it in my office upstairs. Would you mind waiting a moment while I pop up and get it?" Ms. Hopkirk stood to exit the room.

Hermione jumped up, startling the older woman. "No! Sorry, no, thank you. I'd appreciate it if you just mail it to me, it's nothing I need right now anyways. Ms. Hopkirk, I'd really just like to get this over with and get going, if you please."

Ron was expecting to meet up with her later on this afternoon to pick his things up from the flat she'd rented above Madam Malkin's dress shop a couple months ago. Not that she had any intention of meeting him, but she wanted to be long gone from the Wizarding World before he descended on Diagon Alley. That gave her - she looked down at her wristwatch - four hours. Now that Harry's estate was settled and all the major trials that she'd had to attend and bear witness to had come to an end, she couldn't get out of here fast enough.

"Oh! Well that's fine dear. I'll pop those addresses into the post later this afternoon or sometime in the morning. Now, if you'll just take out your wand, you understand that this spell must be self-inflicted. No one can take your magic from you, only by your wand and your hand will it leave your body. All right, just place the tip against the center of your chest, yes, right at the base of your sternum. There you go, there's no need to be afraid."

Hermione's blood was boiling and her knees were knocking, there was no denying that she was frightened. But not for the reasons Ms. Hopkirk must be thinking. She wasn't worried she'd regret her decision, not by any means. She was worried it would hurt, and she was scared of what would be left once the magic was gone. Hermione had read that Magical Suppression changed a person, because an inherent part of their physical and psychological makeup wasn't actually suppressed – it was removed. While Magic Stripping or Magic Removal was the more accurate term, Magical Suppression seemed to be a PC compromise to make it sound less invasive. This procedure was done involuntarily to criminals for the most part, but every so often a member of the community, whether out of grief or love, fear or hope, willingly surrendered their magic in order to make a new life for themselves in the Muggle world. It was mostly Muggle-borns or members of the Wizarding Community that had fallen in love with Muggles, but every so often there were people like Hermione that just wanted to leave out of grief and to protect their privacy.

She had no desire to use her wand ever again.

She'd done enough damage.

"Now, dear, the incantation is _Magus Eripe_."

/…../

"Let's see now, Mr. Malfoy, is it? What seems to be the problem?" The Physician set Draco's chart down and pulled out his ophthalmoscope to examine Draco's eyes.

"Headaches." Draco said sullenly.

"All right, can you tell me about these headaches? Have you noticed a trigger? Where are they centered? How would you rate their intensity on a scale of one to ten, with ten being the most severe pain, and one being mildy bothersome?" The Physician wrote some notes down on Draco's chart, then picked up another light and looked in Draco's ears, and then had him open his mouth and looked into Draco's throat.

"I didn't really have this problem until I started working at the Library a couple weeks ago, but I get one pretty much every day now. My vision has gotten quite blurry, and most of the pain is centered above my eyes and across the front of my head, I guess. Intensity of pain, maybe a five or six most days. Sometimes worse, sometimes not so bad." Draco shrugged. He was now a gainfully employed _MUGGLE,_ for Salazar's Sake, and all it had gotten him was a dull achy skull, and dull achy eyeballs.

It was fucking miserable.

"My supervisor mentioned that I might need to see about getting my eyes checked. But they've always been perfectly fine until I started working at the Library." Draco wanted to make sure the Doctor understood that his body was in perfect working order, it must be something about working in the stacks that had made these headaches come on.

Maybe he was allergic to work. That would be brilliant.

"Well, Mr. Malfoy, considering the symptoms you've described, I think the simplest thing we could do is eliminate the possibility of a need for reading glasses. Now, have you ever had an eye exam?"

Draco shook his head.

"No? And you're nineteen now, yes?"

Draco nodded his head.

"Well, all right, Mr. Malfoy what I'd like you to do is look at this chart on the wall, and start reading the letters on the top row out loud. Continue down each row until you can't make out the letters anymore."

The Doctor motioned towards a poster on the wall across from the stool Draco was perched on, which had rows and rows of random letters that descended in size as his eyes ventured down the page.

Draco was able to read until the third from last row, before all the writing went blocky and black.

The Doctor wrote on Draco's chart, and then opened a cabinet and handed Draco a large notecard that had another series of rows of letters in decending sizes.

"OK, Mr. Malfoy, just repeat that exercise with this notecard."

Draco's eyes started swimming on the fourth row down, so he brought the card closer to his face to focus on the smaller text. He ended up, with much squinting and blinking, to get through three more rows before the Doctor stopped him.

"I think that's enough Mr. Malfoy. You are obviously far-sighted. I can imagine your headaches did start in earnest, working in a Library of all places. You need reading glasses, Mr. Malfoy." The Doctor smiled distractedly as he gathered a couple pamphlets and then popped his head out the door to ask an attending nurse to join him. The Doctor had his back turned, and didn't see Draco's look of utter disgust and horror.

Fucking HELL! He needed bloody GLASSES? To fucking READ?

Merlin's shaggy balls, he was going to look like the Late Saint Potty, the Muggle-Bred Wizard Wonder Boy himself.

Fucking Muggle-tastic, that was how he was going to look. Bloody Hell.

Draco disgruntedly accepted the paperwork from the nurse, who was directing him to another physician that would help determine an accurate measure of Draco's far-sightedness, and help him select a pair of glasses that would suit his needs.

Salazar Himself must be turning over in his grave, as Draco felt the weight of this… this… disability… settle on his shoulders. What kind of pureblood wizard has a vision disability?

Oh, right. Draco wasn't a wizard anymore. He was a bloody DISABLED fucking MUGGLE.

"You're headaches should clear up right away, Mr. Malfoy, but if they do persist please come back and see me at once. We need to make sure you're seeing clearly before we can continue any further diagnosis." The Doctor held his hand out to shake Draco's, and then bade him good-afternoon.

/…../

_Dear Mafalda,_

_In response to your letter from earlier this week, I am writing to report that yes, my headaches have gone away since I started wearing the glasses. Honestly, it has made working a lot easier, as I had been wondering why those damned Dewey Decimal numbers had to be written so small they were almost impossible to read – well, they're not that small anymore. _

_My Supervisor, Wanda, has been very pleased with how much more quickly I've been able to get through the book returns, and yesterday she taught me how to use the computer to assist patrons in searching for obscure texts that might be at different libraries. She said that since I had the most flexible schedule (because I have no social or family life, apparently) that she'd like to train me up to be her assistant. So, within the next couple weeks I'll be promoted to Assistant Head Librarian._

_So there you go, my Muggle employment record is looking better every day. Huzzah. _

_I still haven't figured out how to use the vacuum-machine, so I've taken to sweeping the carpets. Stupid ridiculous broom, might as well sweep the sodding floors with it, as it sure as Hell isn't good for anything else. _

_The burns on my fingers are almost completely healed, but I'm worried about the scars. There's some kind of potion-lotion stuff the emergency doctor recommended to minimize scarring, but what would be really fantastic is if you could owl – or Muggle-post – me a jar of Scar-None. I don't really care to have disfigured hands, especially when there is such an easy cure…. _

_I'm enclosing two fifty-pound notes, one for the purchase of the Scar-None and one for your time and effort to purchase and ship this to me, here at my illustrious flat in Muggle-opolis, better known to yours truly as Hell. _

_In Purgatorium Veritas…._

_DAM_

/…../

Draco thanked the hospital pharmacist for her assistance as she handed him a handled plastic bag of creams, bandages, anti-inflammatories and pain relievers. His entire right hand was snugly wrapped in a white cotton mitten, a healthy glob of numbing cream and several layers of gauze. The fingertips on his left hand were also covered in goo and bandaged, but at least they were free to move around, or he'd have a devil of a time unlocking his flat. Or opening the door.

Or taking a piss, or making coffee, or…

Well, the list was pretty endless.

It had been two months since he'd last burnt the shite out of his hands taking his stupid dinner out of his stupid oven. He'd done it two times back in his first month on his own; and just like then, he'd had to go to the Hospital to get today's burns treated. Stupid oven mittens had been the last thing on his mind this evening though, when he'd been laying on his couch reading that new book he'd brought home from the Library. _The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe_, by some bloke named Lewis. He'd seen several Muggles close to his own age checking and returning books from the series, so he figured it must be relevant to his new life.

Uh, no. It was set during World War II, which in itself had totally blown Draco's mind. The Muggles had not just one but two WARS that encompassed the entire WORLD in the last century. How did he not know about this? He'd lived in England his entire life, for Salazar's sake, how had he never known about enemy aeroplanes dropping bombs on London?

How was something so brutal, so, destructive, and so important not in wizarding history books? How –

And then he'd smelled the familiar smell of burning frozen food and dashed to the oven before it started smoking up his entire flat, and for the third time in his miserable life grabbed a 425 degree pan with his bare hands.

There was a bloody mess in his kitchen to clean up. Draco looked at his mittened hand. He supposed he could just shove his oven mitten over his burn mitten and swipe it all up with that. Brilliant, his hand was useful again.

/…./

Draco groaned and opened his eyes to a, sadly, familiar fluorescent tube-style light.

Too bright!

He squeezed his eyes back shut and felt his stomach heave as his head throbbed to the beat of his heart. Ugh, bloody Muggle alcohol was the bloody DEVIL. He hadn't even drank that much, and his head was absolutely killing him. Never, ever, ever again would he drink Muggle liquor, this hangover was bloody murder.

Draco frowned as his stomach calmed its heaving. That light had been awfully familiar. He knew he wasn't in his own bed in his flat, and he certainly wasn't back at the Manor.

"Hello?" he croaked. Merlin's balls, his head hurt. He reached up to rub his aching skull and felt… Stubble.

What the fuck?

He shot upwards, and promptly vomited and blacked out.

/…/

_Dear Ronald,_

_By the time you get a chance to read this, I will have already left. _

_Sorry about that, I just couldn't bear any more awkwardness, and I had an opportunity for an earlier flight. Now that I've gotten enrolled at the local University by Mum and Dad's, I'll be focusing on school for the next few years. I intend to remain in Australia until I finish school, at least four or five years. I imagine you aren't very happy with me for my decision, but please understand that I need to be away from England for a while, and I need to be close to my parents right now. _

_ I don't expect to hear from you, but if you feel like writing, please do. I'll keep in touch, of course. _

_Please give everyone my love and fond farewell, and please don't think too badly of me for not being able to face everyone. _

_Your, _

_Hermione. _

To Be Continued...


	3. Chapter 3 Alone

Author's Note: I own no person, no place, no thing. If you recognize it, it probably belongs to Ms. Rowling or some other awesome super-human.

Chapter 03 Alone

In the waning light of the autumn afternoon, Draco walked home his usual four-block route from the Library. He'd already picked up a scone and a styro-cup of tea from the coffee shop next to the Library, and with these two items in hand, he hurried home in anticipation of yet another evening of… nothing. Reading, staring out the window at the late afternoon and evening walkers and runners that passed his living room on the Park's jogging trail, writing to Mafalda, worrying about his attackers, examining the scars on his hands, etcetera, etcetera… Yes indeed, another amazing night in the wildly exciting life of Draco Malfoy.

Draco sighed as he climbed the stairs to his flat. The loneliness was definitely getting to him. He wished he'd been able to stay in touch with at least one of his old friends from school. Blaise and his family had disappeared in that horrible summer after Sixth Year, and of course Theo was in Azkaban. There wasn't anyone else from his former House who'd be happy, or even alive, to hear from him.

As for members of the Order, Hermione Granger was the only one close to his age who'd ever even had a halfway amicable conversation with him. Maybe he'd ask Mafalda about Granger the next time he wrote to her. At least he could count on Granger's infallible politeness to respond to a letter. But then again, was Draco even allowed to contact people in the Wizarding World? He'd definitely have to clear that with Mafalda. Merlin knew, that woman didn't permit any rule-bending. When she'd sent his hundred pounds and Scar-None request back with a _very_ stern note that, as a Muggle, he was not permitted to use magical potions, and that attempting to bribe a Ministry Official was a Class 3-A Felony, he'd given up on asking her for help of any kind – the ruddy cow. But now, he was getting desperate.

So, Draco figured asking Mafalda about contact information for Blaise, Theo and Everyone's Best Buddy Granger would be the topic of his next letter. Surely Theo was allowed to write? Oh well, a bloke could hope. Draco figured Theo had to be the one wizard in England that was lonelier than him.

Draco sat down on the edge of his couch and pushed his loafers and socks off of his feet. He picked through his most recent stack of books he'd brought home from the Library, selecting a book on the history of motorcycles. He absently flipped through the pages until he found the diagrams and glossy photos that had appealed to him when he'd found it the other day when he'd been re-shelving Returns. The mechanics he definitely didn't understand in the least bit. Spark plugs, v-twin engines, compression ratios, it was like reading Dutch or Russian – but the photos! Now there was something to consider. One thing Draco really could appreciate was the evolution in the photos, from black and white to full color, and the changes in sleekness and appeal to the shape of the motorcycles. Muggles really were creative when it came to transportation. He'd seen several motorcycles or varying styles trundling through town, and damn it, it looked… cool. Draco couldn't think of a more appropriate word. Motorcycles looked cool.

Two women were running along the pathway that meandered past Draco's window. One was pushing a double-stroller with two little girls with curly blond hair. Twins, probably. Draco wished he'd had a twin. Or at least a sibling. Maybe if he'd had a sibling there'd be someone here with him. He liked to think so anyway. Of course, with the shit job Lucius had done raising Draco, he figured the chances were at best fifty-fifty that any sibling of his would be decent. Chances were actually more likely that if there had been another Malfoy, they would have risen to be a new Dark Lord within a week after Voldemort died.

Draco shuddered. Gods, maybe it was better not to have a sibling.

/…/

Hermione waved goodbye to Sue and the girls, and made her way up the trail that turned towards her flat. She was happy to have found a running partner so quickly, as running alone often left her feeling antsy, like she should be looking over her shoulder for… what? Someone running after her? Death Eaters were in short supply in Muggle parks in Little Whinging, but still… having a running partner kept her mind focused on the task at hand – running for the sake of running, not to simply save her own life.

Jogging past the Italian restaurant, Hermione's stomach and nose immediately commanded her attention. Mmmmm… Marinara… Garlic… Butter… Maybe she'd pop back down after a shower and take her dinner down here. This week she was making a conscious effort to spend as much time out and about as possible, getting to know her new neighborhood. She'd spent the past few weeks hiding in her flat. Yes, she could admit it to herself. She'd been hiding, waiting to see if anyone showed up at her door. Death Eaters, Reporters, Weasleys… And so far, her carefully crafted exit from the Wizarding Community had worked.

She'd paid the Goblins nearly 100,000 galleons for each of the three custom doors she had to pass through to enter her living space. Much like the sword of Gryffindor, the metal of the doors would absorb any spells or potions cast upon them, making them stronger. No wizard or witch would get through them without her permission. Hermione liked to think that this would be enough to protect her privacy from the more casual unwanted visitors. As for the less casual ones…

Well, hopefully the less casual visitors were looking for her in Sydney, not Surrey.

Two hours later Hermione pushed a twenty pound note into her waitress's hand and waved a good-evening to the hostess. Twenty pounds was an awful lot of money for a dinner out alone, but the two glasses of merlot she'd had with her risotto had been well worth it.

"Oi, Hermione! Your book!"

Hermione turned to see her waitress, a girl close to her own age named Lisa, hurrying after her. Hermione's copy of _Justice Hall, _her favorite Sherlock Holmes/Mary Russell mystery novel was in her hands.

"Oh my! Thank you Lisa! That's my favorite book in the series! I would hate to lose it!" Hermione clutched the battered book to her chest.

"I can see that," Lisa said wryly, eyeing the scotch-tape binding and tattered corners.

"It's a brilliant series, really, you should try it!" Hermione said brightly. "You like Sherlock Holmes don't you?" Hermione already knew this because they'd talked books on several occasions since she'd eaten under Lisa's care. "Imagine Holmes takes on a young female apprentice, and they have grand detective adventures together, and there you go!"

"Really? A girl Watson? That's an abomina-" Lisa's indignation was cut off by Hermione.

"Oh no, she's not a girl Watson, the girl's name is Russell, Mary Russell, and she comes to Holmes after he formally retired, when she's just fifteen. When he finds that she's just as brilliant as he is, he takes her under his wing as his apprentice detective. Watson's still around, but not in the same capacity since he and Holmes aren't at Baker Street anymore…"

"Oh well that's different, then. Who writes it?" Lisa reached towards the book again, and Hermione handed it to her.

"Laurie R. King is the author. You'll pretty much find them right next to the Stephen King books, since they're mystery-fiction. The first one's called _The Beekeeper's Apprentice_." Hermione said helpfully. She really loved sharing her love of books with people. Nothing made her happier than giving a book recommendation that someone actually appreciated. Hermione realized sadly that this had probably only happened half a dozen times in her life. That was truly pathetic, wasn't it? She felt this was just another indicator that she did not belong in the Wizarding World. No one, not even her best friends, had ever appreciated the way she was, or the things that made her happy. Now here she was, standing on a Muggle street giving a book recommendation to her waitress, for Goodness sake. And Hermione was getting a far better response from Lisa than any of her magical aquaintences had ever given her.

She really was better off alone in Little Whinging.

Lisa smiled. "You know, it just so happens that I am going to the Library tomorrow morning to return some books for my Mother. Maybe I'll look these up. Or maybe…" Lisa's smile grew. "Maybe I'll get that hot new Librarian to help me look these up. Have you seen him?"

Judging by the sparkle in Lisa's eye, Hermione figured the hot new Librarian was the primary reason why Lisa was returning her Mother's books for her. The girl was practically blushing!

"Oooh, you know Lisa, I haven't been to the Library at all yet! Where is it? I wouldn't mind checking it out. Not the guy, the Library!" Hermione clarified at Lisa's giggle.

Lisa gave her directions to the Public Library on the other end of town, and then rushed back into the restaurant to finish her shift. Hermione pulled her house keys out of her day-bag and set about unlocking her way into her flat. She'd finish _Justice Hall_ tonight. Tomorrow morning she needed to spend some time rehearsing with her violin, but, in keeping with her 'get out more' strategy of this week, she would catch a cab to her local Library tomorrow afternoon.

Hermione smiled to herself as she keyed in her six digit passcode at her flat's front door. She hadn't been inside a Library since she'd been at Hogwarts. And it had been literally _ages_ since she'd been in a Muggle Library. Not since she was a mere girl who lived with her parents in a modest home in a modest town that had never heard of Hogwarts, or Dumbledore, or Voldemort, or Harry Potter.

A lifetime ago, really.

/…../

Draco was sitting in the employee break room, eating his lunch alone as usual when Wanda popped her head in the door.

"Draco? I'm getting ready to head out for lunch. No dear, finish your lunch, we've got two volunteers on the floor right now and there's not many patrons in here anyway. I just wanted to let you know I brought you a bit of that Shepherd's Pie I made last night. It's in the fridge in the green container. I remember you'd said before how much you liked it." Wanda smiled at her young assistant as he nodded his head in thanks and swallowed to clear the food from his mouth.

"Thank you, Wanda, that's very kind of you." Draco smiled at his boss, who patted his shoulder affectionately. The poor boy needed a Mother. Wanda hated that he was all alone in the world, even though he was technically an adult he seemed so helpless! She waved goodbye to him and went to retrieve her bag from under the Information Counter where she normally worked. As she was walking out the door she saw a couple of giggling college age girls craning their necks and looking down the aisles. Were they looking for someone? Then it occurred to Wanda: the girls were looking for Draco! That's what the boy needed! Obviously not one of these giggling teens, but a good woman. Every man did need one, and Draco was a prime target for a good matchmaking. No, it did no good for a man to be alone. And he really was a nice boy.

/…../

It was pitch black in Hermione's room when she woke up with a scream tearing out of her throat.

"HARRY!"

She sat up in the middle of her big, lonely bed with her blankets tangled around her legs, and cried for her lost friend. It was the same dream nearly every night. The two of them running hand in hand through the woods, or down a village street, or through the hallways of Hogwarts, when suddenly he'd be ripped away from her. And then he was just gone, and she was alone. No one else was left. Not her parents, certainly not Ronald, and no other friends that she'd ever been able to count on.

Hermione sniffled and scrubbed her eyes, then tugged her legs out of her blankets and off the bed. She padded to her kitchen in the dark, and flicked on the dim light over her stove. Setting the tea kettle on to boil, she glanced over at the kitchen clock to check the time. It was already after five in the morning. Well that was a blessing, surely. She'd made it through nearly a whole night. The sun would be up soon, and with the dawn would come a new chance for her to get out and conquer this new life of hers. She didn't have plans to meet Sue to run again until next week, and she just went out for dinner at the Italian restaurant downstairs yesterday…

Then she remembered her conversation with Lisa as she'd been leaving the restaurant. The Library! Today she would be going to the Library. Good, she had a plan. Tea, violin practice, breakfast, more violin - she really needed to make sure she had these Nickel Creek songs well in hand before rehearsal Saturday, which was now just a day away. So, after lunch, she'd go to the Library and check out their book selection, then she'd come back home and practice for a few more hours before she went to sleep.

Hermione was really looking forward to Saturday's practice. Sue and her husband and girls were wonderfully kind and friendly people, and might even invite her to eat lunch with them afterwards. That would be nice. Eating alone was fine and all, but she missed the mealtime camaraderie she'd had when she was in the Order, or at the Burrow, and of course in her school days at Hogwarts.

Ugh. Thinking about those days brought flashing images of happier memories to the forefront of her mind. Memories of belonging, of feeling a purpose, of having plans and knowing where her life was heading. Out here now in Little Whinging, Hermione felt the press of time weighing on her. She'd gotten her parents settled, she'd gotten her own housing settled, and she'd even gotten her routine settled in a healthy manner that should assure that she didn't lose her ever-loving marbles out of sheer loneliness. If she wasn't careful, time would pass, and her life would pass her by.

Maybe she needed to get a job? Hermione contemplated this as she sipped her tea and wandered over to her massive bookshelves to peruse her titles for something comforting to read. When nothing jumped out at her as being interesting enough to settle with, her fingers wandered over to her non-fiction section and picked through some Science texts from her parent's collection.

Yes, today was a good day to go check out the Public Library. She was running out of reading material here.

To Be Continued.


	4. Chapter 4 Second Sight

**Author's Note: I own no person, no place, no thing – except the plot. If you recognize it, it probably belongs to Ms. Rowling or some other awesome super-human.**

**I've been waiting _ages _to post this. This is the first chapter I wrote of this story. It was much harder to get the first three set up right to make this meeting between our heroes as natural and timely as possible. So, without further ado…**

**Chapter 04 Second Sight**

Draco caught a glimpse of the brown-haired woman from the corner of his eye as he shelved the last book that had been stacked in his arms. Crazy Muggles and the crazy shit they read. This _Left Behind _ series was especially popular right now as the authors had just released the latest book, and the Library's main telephone had been ringing constantly with requests to hold and reserve most of the books in the series by one batty old patron or another. There had been a lot of complaints about the lack of availability in the Library, and when Draco had looked up the inventory and whereabouts of the books, he'd found that the bulk of the Library's copies of the series where checked out by only a handful of patrons. He'd spent his lunch break yesterday afternoon on the phone with thirteen particular Library patrons, and with a generous application of his signature Malfoy charm, he'd managed to score forty-seven of the Library's copies of the series books. Forty-seven! Draco was quite pleased with himself as he shimmied down the ladder and grabbed his cart to push back to the front of the Library's Check/Information counter.

'Another victory for Draco Malfoy, Muggle Librarian Du Jour', he thought to himself sarcastically. He pushed his reading glasses up off his nose and onto the top of his head as he walked to the end of the aisle.

Looking back to his left, he saw the brown-haired woman angle towards a grouping of squashy chairs, comfortable couches and end-tables that sat under the large, high set windows. The windows faced west, and the afternoon sunlight was ideal for reading.

She had walked past his aisle rather slowly, head down to read the open book she held in front of her. It was oddly familiar, seeing the woman like that in his peripheral vision. As Draco turned towards the information desk, something caught in the back of his mind. He turned back again and saw the afternoon sun catch on the woman's long, wavy hair. It burned gold and bright, every wave and curl shining and so… familiar.

Draco's mouth popped open. What the fuck? He'd seen hair like that before in his other life, all curling golden-brown madness, rippling and crackling with an intensity that matched the gold fire in its owner's eyes.

Her eyes.

Her…Mione.

Draco stumbled forward on disbelieving feet. "Granger?"

/…../

Hermione had just settled herself on the green corduroy chair, shrugging her bag to the floor and tucking her leg under her as she turned the next page. _The Song of the Dodo _by David Quammen was her first introduction to the theory of island biogeography, and she was completely hooked. She was eager to find out about the demise of the thylacine, better known as the Tasmanian Tiger-

"Granger?"

Someone had gasped her name. Someone was standing on the other side of the orange and brown striped couch, staring down at her with his mouth hanging open. Someone slightly familiar, yet slightly not… Hermione's heart thumped in her chest.

Close-cropped blond hair, dark gray, almost black eyes, large black, Buddy Holly style glasses pushed up on his forehead. He'd rolled up the sleeves on his white oxford, his navy blue argyle sweater vest fit loosely over his rapidly heaving chest, and his pale hands gripped the back of the couch as if he were hanging on – what, to keep from falling over?

"Holy shit, Malfoy?"

"What the Hell are you doing here?"

They both spoke at the same time, both too shocked to remember to be quiet.

"Shhh!" A middle-aged man at seated at a table nearby glared at them.

Hermione leapt up as Draco clambered over the couch and stopped within a foot of her. He looked so different! Draco had always been so pale and silvery looking, even his skin had seemed to glow silver, and his eyes… they were slate gray now. And practically bugging out of his head!

"Malfoy, stop gaping at me, you look like a bloody fish," she said quietly. She'd never seen such an un-Malfoy-like look on his face before. Arrogant, snarky, angry, smug, all these things were to be expected. But in this most unexpected of places, her local Library, he looked…. gobsmacked, honestly.

Draco's teeth clicked together as his mouth closed, and he blinked a couple of times.

"Granger? Are you… where did you…. How did you know I was here?" He looked back and forth a couple times, even looking back over his shoulder to the Library entrance.

"Why are you here?" he asked. Then his face lit up. "Has something changed? Am I being released early?"

"Ssshhhhh!" the man at the table was staring daggers at them. Hermione waved an apology, and he narrowed his eyes and frowned at her.

"Malfoy, I don't really know what you're going on about. Why are YOU out here? Why aren't you in the Wi… the other… world? I thought you'd gone to Europe?"

The light in Draco's eyes faded as he took in her face. It was so different! No more high-voltage curls, no more golden hazel eyes. Holy Merlin! Her eyes… they weren't gold, they were GREEN.

A light, sea-green. Somewhat calm, somewhat confused, and definitely, definitely not golden anymore.

She was different like he was different. Draco grabbed her arms and pulled her even closer as he examined her face.

"You're a Muggle! Holy Merlin, you're a fucking Muggle!" he stared in horror.

"Hey, cut it out Malfoy!" she hissed at him, jerking her arms out of his grip before he could start shaking her.

"SSSHHHHHH!" the man at the table was red faced now, and looked ready to come over and tell them off.

Hermione clapped her hand over Draco's mouth just as he was about to speak FAR TOO LOUDLY again.

"Malfoy… Draco, please calm down and shut the hell up, for goodness sake. We're in a Library." She needed to get him out of here before he started screaming or hyperventilating or something.

Draco scowled, blinked, and a muffled 'mmph hmmph' came from under her hand, so she pulled it away from his face.

"I know that, you idiot, I work here," he snapped. "But how the Hell did you get here? Why are you a Muggle too? Where are you going?" Draco frowned as she bent over and grabbed her day-bag from the floor and stuffed her book inside.

Hermione straightened back up and gazed at him. "We can't talk in here. Can we go somewhere else? Wait... what? You… work here? Really? Wait… you're a Muggle too… Malfoy, you're a Muggle?"

She took in his squared-off jaw and chin, his dark eyes, his very un-Malfoy-like haircut. Holy Merlin indeed. How in the world had that happened? Hermione grabbed his hand and started dragging him towards the front door.

"Well obviously I am, thanks to the fucking Wizengamot. Hey, wait a second Granger. Wait, I can't just leave," he protested, trying to pull his hand away from her. Gods, she had a strong grip!

Hermione gave him a pleading look and tugged harder.

"Come on Malfoy. You know we can't talk in here."

"Look, I'm supposed to get off in an hour or so," he untangled his hand from hers and pushed his glasses up higher from his forehead before they fell off entirely. His brain was spinning in confusion and shock, and his hand burned where she'd touched him, but it was so damn good to see a familiar face he couldn't bear to let her walk away right now. "Hold on, just wait a minute. Just let me go ask Wanda if I can go now," he pointed at the matron standing behind the information counter.

Hermione grabbed his hand again and started dragging him over to the counter. "Okay, I'll go with you." There was so much she wanted to find out! Why was he here? Did the Ministry know? And how did he just HAPPEN to WORK in her local Library?

Draco stumbled after her to the Information counter. Wanda, Draco's supervisor, looked up to see her assistant, pink cheeked, frowning and stumbling, holding hands with a brown haired girl roughly his own age.

'Well now,' she thought, 'I suppose young Draco doesn't need a matchmaker after all'. For the past three months since he'd started working at the Library, she'd seen him solemn, hesitant, calm, and collected, but never… Astounded. Shocked, maybe. Embarrassed too, judging by the pink flushing his face as he met her eyes. It was the girl who spoke to Wanda, though.

"Good afternoon, Wanda, is it? I'm Hermione, an old school friend of Draco's. I actually just moved to town here, and lo and behold, I bump into my old classmate at my new local Library! I haven't seen him in _ages_, would it be possible for him to leave his shift a little early? I'm dying for a coffee and the shop next door smelled absolutely delicious." Hermione smiled brightly and hugged Draco's arm affectionately for good measure.

Draco's arm tingled at the increased contact, and his cheeks darkened further as he looked from Wanda to the girl smiling and prattling next to him. What the Devil was she going on about? School friend? Merlin, if 'school friend' meant life-long arch-rival turned War-ally turned casual acquaintance before exile had landed him here in Little Whinging, well then, 'school friend' he was then.

Draco barely recognized that Wanda was handing him his house keys from their hook under the counter, and hardly noticed that Hermione was leading him out the front door by his free hand.

/…../

"So, Granger, what the Devil are you doing here?" Draco found himself seated at a small table in the front window of the coffee shop next to the library, with a cup of coffee in his hands, staring at the Muggle-born witch who'd just dropped back into his life, looking all Muggle-tastic, just like him. "Did Mafalda send you?"

Hermione wrapped her hands around her own coffee and looked at her former rival. "You look so different, Malfoy. I am going to assume that you had your magic Suppressed. And since you mentioned Mafalda, I am going to assume that she is responsible for our meeting up like this. Yes, Mafalda Hopkirk did recommend that I settle here. She actually gave me several recommendations for Muggle cities that had small populations of squibs and other like-minded former witches and wizards, but I chose Little Whinging because of Harry. I didn't know that you would be here. Actually I'm very surprised. I never would have thought of you as someone who'd walk away from the Wizarding World."

"What?" Draco's mouth dropped open and his face got very, very red. "I didn't walk away from the Wizarding World! I didn't _have_ my magic Suppressed! I had my magic taken from me and got chucked out on my arse! This was my punishment for my crimes against the Wizarding Community, Granger. Forget the fact that I risked my life every day for two years getting information to the Order, and forget that I had to fight against my own family! The Wizengamot decided to make an example of me, and here I am. For five years! I can't go back for five bloody years!"

Hermione frowned as she watched Draco fuming across the table. "I thought you left England, honestly. That's what was in the Prophet, that after your trial you moved to Europe to go to school and take care of your family's business there."

"What?! NO! I'm in some kind of forced hellacious Muggle-immersion, rehab program for purebloods. It's better than Azkaban, but Gods, Muggle life sucks, Granger!" Draco pushed his sliding glasses back up on his forehead, then thought better of it and grabbed them, shaking them in her face.

"I'm far-sighted!" he snapped. "I'm allergic to cats and strawberries, and I'm lactose intolerant! I've been in hospital three times because I keep forgetting that shit that comes out of the oven is fucking hot and I have to wear these bloody giant mittens to protect my skin! I don't have fingerprints on my right hand anymore!" He opened his palms and laid them on the table in front of her. Sure enough, the swirls and whorls that should have been on his right hand were all smooth and rather shiny.

"I've been out here for three fucking months and I swear it's amazing I'm still alive, Granger." He sighed and made to pull his hands back in to himself, but Hermione grabbed them.

"Malfoy…. Draco… wait a second, you mean you just got dumped out here with no preparation or instruction? That's inhumane! God knows what a shock that must have been!"

Hermione looked down at his hands while she had them trapped. The burn scars were obviously healed, but he also had cuts from what looked like a four-bladed razor across his index finger on his left hand, and the base of his thumb was covered in scratches like he'd fallen down and caught himself- she looked up at his face again, and saw more scratches on the bottom of his chin. He must have fallen down and caught his chin and palm, possibly on concrete. There were also the edges of two pink scar lines snaking their way out of his hair just above his left ear.

"No, I didn't totally just get dumped. Mafalda brought me out here, helped me find a place to live and get furniture and get the power turned on, and she stayed for a couple of days to help me find a job and taught me how to use the oven and make tea and coffee. After that I've been on my own. It's been… Hell it's been a misery from the start. I can make tea but it tastes like shite, I really hate frozen dinners but don't know how to cook anything else, and I'm scared to ask for help anymore because people look at me like I'm crazy. The last time I was in hospital the Surgeon asked me if I'd been taking illegal drugs and refused to let me leave without pissing in a plastic up so they could do research on it. On piss! That's bloody disgusting!" He jerked his hands back away from her inspection and tucked his reading glasses into the front pocket of his shirt.

"On top of all that, it's fucking lonely out here. Everyone's a stranger, people are NOT friendly, no one recognizes my name – which lately I guess really is a good thing – and I feel like I'm losing my mind, day by day. It's too quiet in my flat, I don't go out because I'm scared I'll get mugged again – oh yeh, that was another fun night in hospital – and I swear to Salazar Himself I'm getting uglier every day! I'm covered in scars now! Why the Hell are you laughing?"

Draco's whining rant was interrupted by Hermione's giggles. She set her coffee down and clapped her hands over her mouth.

"Oh Malfoy, I'm sorry! It's not funny, but it's just so… okay it's funny! I'm so sorry I'm not laughing at you specifically, it's just… You've got to feel like an alien on a different planet or something! It's never been a big deal for me to switch back and forth between the magical and Muggle worlds, but for YOU… No… I feel so bad for you!" She tried to push some compassion into her voice so he wouldn't think she was making fun of him. Honestly, the poor guy was obviously having a rough go of it. She'd never seen Malfoy so chatty and expressive before. He was so blatantly lost and lonely that her heart hurt for him. Once compassion came to the forefront of her thoughts, she came up with a plan.

"Mal… Draco, where do you live?" Hermione asked. "Could we walk there from here?"

"Why?" he asked, glowering at her obvious humor at his expense.

"Because, you poor thing, I haven't got anything going on for the rest of the day, and I can help you out. You could call this Advanced Muggle Studies. Ask me anything Muggle related, and I'll give you a hand." Hermione stood up as though the matter were settled and reached for his hand again.

Draco's face lit up. This had possibilities! He wouldn't have to keep any secrets, he could ask her anything! Maybe she could show him how to use the vacuum sucker thing, his carpets were starting to scare him. And the temperature controller thingy, the washing machine and dryer, the stovetop…

"Do you swear you're not making fun of me?" Draco looked at her carefully. "Because I have a lot of fucking questions."

Hermione smiled at him, a real, honest-to-goodness smile. Like a co-conspirator, someone who shared the same secret as him. She continued to hold out her hand, trying to reach him. "Come on, Draco Malfoy, and I'll show you how the other half lives."

"Brilliant! Can you cook? Can you teach me how? Do you know how to pick out food at the grocer? Would you go shopping with me?" Draco gulped the last of his coffee and stood up.

"Yes, yes, yes, and yes, Draco. Now come on, it looks like it's about to start raining and I didn't bring a jacket." Hermione finally got his hand in hers, but Draco looked at her oddly.

"Granger, I'm not a baby. Why do you keep trying to hold my hand?"

Hermione blushed and let go. "Sorry. Habit." She shuffled her feet.

"Isn't it only a Muggle thing for couples though? And mum's and babies crossing the street?" he asked, frowning at her blush. What, was she trying to stake a claim on him or something?

Oh Gods, did she have a crush on him?

"Yes, you're right. Couples and mum's and babies. Like I said, habit. Sorry."

"But we're not a couple. And you're not my Mum."

"No! No, we're not a couple. For goodness sake Draco, like I said, it's just a habit."

"Who've you been holding hands with so much that's got you trying to hold my hand? Is there some Muggle bloke out here somewhere that's going to try to kick my arse?"

"No! Draco, don't worry about it. I said I was sorry."

"Then who…" Draco's eyebrow quirked up as he watched her stutter and shuffle.

"My Dad. And Harry. Like I said, sorry. I've probably been alone too long." Hermione's face reddened even more as she said that last bit. "Look I'm not making a pass at you or anything, my Dad always used to hold my hand. Everywhere we went, we'd hold hands, and it's something I just sort of kept up with Harry, especially when we were off looking for the Horcruxes and everything. You know, I guess for comfort and to make sure we wouldn't lose each other, in case we needed to _disapparate_ quickly."

Hermione's words rushed out of her, as she looked up at him, seeing this person that she barely knew for so many years, who looked so familiar and so different. She knew the reason she kept touching him was because she trusted him. He'd saved her life during the War more than once, and she'd saved his too. They'd barely been friends the last time she saw him, but now, after all those months of chaos and then this last month of almost complete silence in her new life, she knew she was desperate for someone who knew her, that she could hold on to.

Draco looked down at a brown-haired, green-eyed girl who looked just like - and nothing like - a girl he used to loathe, then grudgingly admire in school, and then fought shoulder-to-shoulder with in the War. Here was the girl who he'd just been wondering about – was it only last night? Standing before him was the only person who willingly visited him in his family's home during his house arrest, who spoke for him during his trial, and who apparently thought he'd gone galavanting off to Europe months ago. She looked more than a little lonely. And sad.

Well, he knew how that felt. Looking more closely he could see the dark smudges under her eyes, and he realized that not only had her skin lost its golden glow, she looked kind of pale. Sickly, even. He definitely knew how that felt. All these months of strange frozen mystery foods and not enough time outdoors or in the company of other people had done strange sad things to his physique and his psyche. He sighed, empathy over-ruling his sense of propriety, and held out his hand.

"Come on, Little Girl, I'll hold your hand so you don't get lost. But I'm not carrying you on my shoulders, no matter how much you whine." He smirked down at her.

Now she was staring at him with her mouth hanging open. "Did you just use humor, Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco pushed up on her chin to close her mouth, just as she had done to him at the Library. "Yes, of course. I am a very witty individual, Ms. Granger. Now come with me. It's only four blocks to my flat, but I'll protect you from all the wild Muggle barbarians we encounter along the way."

With that, he tucked her small hand into his much larger one, and pulled her out the door.

To Be Continued


	5. Chapter 5 The Preacher and The Teacher

Author's Note: I own no person, no place, no thing – except the plot!. If you recognize it, it probably belongs to Ms. Rowling or some other awesome super-human.

Chapter 05 The Preacher and The Teacher

"So, you and Potter, eh? I'm sorry I didn't know that, I imagine the last few months have been bloody awful. Is that why you left? You know, for some reason I thought you'd ended up with the Weasel." Draco picked up on the first conversation thread that floated past his brain as they walked down the street towards his flat.

"Oh, um…. No, Harry and I weren't together like that, Draco. He was my best friend. Like I said before, the hand-holding compulsion isn't romantically driven. Harry, he was like a brother to me, like family. Especially during the war, when there was so little peace or comfort around us, and no one else we could really count on, Harry and I had each other." Hermione didn't yet feel altogether comfortable talking about Harry in the past tense, but what was done was done, and she couldn't change the fact that Harry Potter was no longer in the world.

"Hmm. You know, Gr… uh, Hermione, Potter wasn't my favorite person in the world, but he was an all right bloke that got a really crap deal. Honestly, I feel bad for the guy." Draco squeezed her hand. "You kind of got a crap deal too, then. You worked really hard, and you tried so hard for years, usually surrounded by people that hated you – my younger, bigoted self included – and it turns out all you were working so hard for was just a lead-up to getting your best mate sacrificed like a damned farm-animal."

Hermione watched him out of the corner of her eye, her face betraying nothing while her inner-self shuddered with sadness.

"Please don't think I'm just randomly saying this to get you to help me clean my flat or something, Granger. You'd be amazed how much I've thought about our lives in the last three months. The whole world is upside down, and it seems like nothing is what it appeared to be ten years ago. Sometimes I wonder where the Magical community came up with the idea that they were more advanced than Muggles. Everything is easy with magic, and its bloody exhausting trying to do the simplest tasks without a wand. Magic has made wizards fat and lazy. Living a Muggle life , a regular life, is hard work." Draco scratched absently at the pink scars that led from his temple into his hairline. Even after a month, the stupid buggering scar was still itchy and sensitive. Case in point, healing wounds in the Muggle world took bloody _ages_.

Hermione was so busy gaping at the man next to her that she forgot to look where she was walking and rammed her shoulder into a street-light post.

"Ow!" Hermione dropped Draco's hand to rub her sore shoulder. "I hate it when that happens!"

Draco was surprised at her declaration. "Does that happen a lot?"

Hermione flushed. "It's a Muggle expression, generally used when someone does something awkward or embarrassing or just plain stupid. But for me, in this particular case, yes, it does happen more than it should. I tend to read while I'm walking, so I run into stuff a lot. It was all right at school, where the walls and armor just jumped out of my way before impact, but out here in the real world…"

"Oh, you mean how out here in the real world shit just jumps out to beat the hell out of you every time you turn around? I've noticed that too." Draco indicated his chin and palm.

"I ran into a concrete wall. All by myself."

Hermione couldn't help but giggle at his confession. "Okay I feel better now."

She met his eyes and went on. "Really Draco, about what you were saying a minute ago, thank you. Coming from you, it really does make me feel better to hear you say that. For a long time it has seemed like all the effort was for nothing, I mean, look where it got me! No friends, no family, and a whole lot of scars."

"My dear Ms. Granger," Draco said in mock seriousness as he tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow. "As the Muggles would say, 'you are preaching to the choir.'"

Draco led her across an intersection and turned left down a wide, tree-lined street. There was a variety of restaurants on one side, and a large apartment building dominating the other. There was a grocer on the bottom level, and on the third floor, flat 3D, Draco fit his house key into the lock and opened his Muggle home to his first guest in three months.

"Welcome to my personal Hell, Ms. Granger."

Hermione stepped into a white-washed, undecorated flat with a large living room, a whole lot of dull beige carpet, and wide windows that overlooked Little Whinging's central Park – the same one she had been running at recently. She realized that Draco's home was on the backside of the building, and definitely had a better view than a front-facing flat. But besides the windows, there was nothing but a dining set, a couple of couches that faced each other awkwardly in the living area, and a hallway that led to closed doors. It was rather stuffy and stale inside, and there was a strange sour food smell coming from the kitchen.

"Well." Hermione said after standing for a few moments in the foyer.

"Well at least you pick up after yourself. Most boys don't know how clean or cook, so you shouldn't feel bad about that. You're quite on par, really, outside the appliances. But really, Draco, at least you're not dirty. I was expecting utter chaos." She grinned at him and pushed up the sleeves on her jumper.

"Where do you want to start? Show me around, and ask away."

Draco blew out the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. "Seriously? Are you sure?"

"Absolutely. Now first, let's either check the thermostat first or open some windows. It's rather stuffy in here."

Hermione spotted the small box on the wall leading down the hallway and headed towards it.

"All right? Now this is a programmable digital unit that allows you to pre-set your air conditioning or heat to adjust at specific times throughout the day and night. It's based on a 24-hour clock, so your inputs will need to be entered using military time."

Hermione glanced over at Draco, whose face had gone completely blank.

"What?" she asked.

"Granger, I only understood about half of the words you just said. Can you, I don't know, dumb it down a little? Or wizard it down? Or something?"

"Oh, right." Hermione blushed for the fortieth time that afternoon. "Sorry," she said. Thinking quickly, she decided that this whole situation would sit best with Draco if she went about it with generalities and humor instead of trying to teach him the intricacies of every mechanical and chemical function of his household.

"Hmm, OK. This is your thermostat." She smiled widely and gestured grandly to it. "Think of it as your Thermometer Station, or Temperature Control Station. If it's too cold in your home for your taste, or too warm, you can open this small panel. See? And there's an 'Up' arrow to make it warmer, and a 'Down' arrow to make it cooler. If you push either button one time, it will increase or decrease the temperature in the room by one degree. See?" Hermione pressed the 'Down' button one time. The digital display blinked on, showing that it was currently twenty-five degrees Celsius. She pushed the button two more times and watched the display blink again, down to twenty-three degrees.

"Now do you want to learn how to program it or are you fine with the up-means-warmer and down-means-cooler explanation?"

"The up and down thing is fine. Why the Hell couldn't Mafalda or the building manager just show me that? That's so ridiculously easy, and it's been absolutely miserable in here!" Draco was frowning.

"I don't know, Draco. But I can tell you, everything in here is basically the same way, deceptively simple to do in complicated and strange packaging. People, regular Muggles anyway, are so used to household machinery that a lot of what they do is instinctive. They don't need to learn it because they've seen it all their lives, so they can't explain it. Can you imagine trying to explain to a Muggle how you fly on a broom?"

"Merlin's Beard, Granger, don't get me started on BROOMS!" Draco strode across the living room into the kitchen, and came back out with a very non-magical red metal broom.

"This piece of shite is NOT a BROOM! It is a metal tube with plastic bristles glued to the end of it. It pushes dirt and hair and rubbish around on the floor and definitely does not fly!"

Hermione bit her bottom lip, trying not to laugh at his righteous outrage and trying really, really hard NOT to imagine him attempting to mount his kitchen broom.

"Well, Draco, if you want my honest opinion. You're exactly right, in a way. Being Muggle-born, I've always found it slightly ridiculous that magical people fly around in the sky on flying cleaning tools." She rolled her eyes as she got warmed up to her subject. "I mean really, why not the flying mop? Or feather duster? Or toilet plunger? It's always seemed damned silly to me!"

"Don't be ridiculous, Granger! Brooms were made to fly. They've been around for eons. People all around the world use them, and not for sweeping up rubbish! I think the first time a broom got used to sweep was when some knuckle-dragging Muggle half-wit found a broken one and dragged it back to his cave. He probably just liked the patterns it made in the dirt, and the rest is history. And now, we have this bastardized rendition of what was once an ingenious magical transport device. Humiliated, degraded, and cheapened. It's an undignified end to a once noble and respected creation." Draco finished grandly and spread his arms, displaying the red broom.

By the time Draco's spiel ended, Hermione was giggling. "Okay, Lord Malfoy, you got me. Muggle brooms, bad. Wizard brooms, good. Now, what's next on your list?"

/…../

For the next two hours, Hermione directed Draco on how to correctly use his washing machine and dryer, his electric iron, his vacuum cleaner, his toaster, his microwave, his electric tea kettle and his coffee maker. Then she sat down on the kitchen floor and broke down the specifics of what cleaning solvents were supposed to be used where, and why they weren't interchangeable, and which ones should never be mixed.

They ended up on the couches, drinking tea that Draco had finally been able to successfully make halfway decently.

Draco leaned his head back and groaned. His head hurt. Yes, everything individually was very basic and easy, but taken all together it was an awful lot to remember. For example, the microwave oven, the toaster oven and the convection oven were all very different creatures that ran on completely different rules and cooking times, but all did essentially the same damned thing. The dish washer and the washing machine were different creatures with ridiculously similar names that were not interchangeable, and if he were ever to mix bleach and ammonia and inhale the fumes, he would die.

Fucking Hell.

"Look, Draco, how about if I make notes of everything I told you, and you can just post them everywhere until you get used to all of it? Then once you're comfortable you can take them down and live the next five years without any more painful accidents." Hermione's tea mug was almost empty, so she sat it down on the floor next to the sofa and reached for her bag.

"I think I even have some post-it's around in here somewhere, I could start right now at least for the really important stuff like the washing machine and dryer..." She pulled out _The Song of the Dodo_, and set it next to her, and then her large notebook, then her mini-journal, then her folder of sheet music, her hairbrush, her packet of hi-lighters…

"Score! Two different colors of post-its, and even a packet of flags!" she crowed with delight.

Draco felt his headache die back as his amusement level increased with every movement Hermione made. Despite her changed looks, she still pulsed with her own signature manic intensity. Sure, she didn't have her quivering golden afro of madness anymore, her hair was more like waving milk chocolate, or cinnamon, maybe...

Hmmm…

But she was still definitely still the same girl he knew in school. Her love of learning and her devotion to sharing knowledge was both endearing and aggravating in hindsight. In school Hermione had frustrated him to no end because no matter how hard he studied (in secret of course, he did have a reputation to uphold) he could never match her. Of course then, he never would have made it anywhere close to being second in his class if he hadn't struggled so hard to keep up with her. When they were younger, he'd just wanted to prove that purebloods were smarter and naturally superior in all ways of magical learning, but that little 'mudblood' – Draco inwardly cringed at the word – girl caught on to every subject with an alacrity and finesse that humbled and challenged him at every turn.

As Draco continued to link his thoughts forward, the reality that jabbed him between his eyes was simply this: all of his magical knowledge, all of his magical strength, and even his own gradual love of learning and his passion for books, had all been magnified untold times because of this girl, seated on his couch across from him. Her legs were crossed underneath her, and she was using her book as a hard surface to write on her small packet of square yellow paper.

"Thank you," Draco said solemnly.

"Oh it's nothing, and this really will save you a lot of time and frustration. I mean, five years is a long time to have to depend on someone else to wash your clothes and cook your food. I think you'll really enjoy the independence once you get the hang of –"

"Hermione," Draco leaned forward and rested his forearms on his knees. "That's not really what I'm talking about. I mean, thanks, yes it will be wonderful to be able to take care of myself no matter where I go; I appreciate that. But seriously, you know I owe you for more than that too."

"What? For saving your arse during the war? Honestly Draco, I think you're at least one up on me there. There was the time I almost fell off the moving staircase, and the time we ran into Nott and Dolohov, and then of course I distinctly remember you memorably shoving me into that dirigible plum bush –"

Draco coughed. "Uh, actually, that was just for fun."

"WHAT?! Those things leaked all over me! It took bloody DAYS to get that mess out of my hair!"

Draco spread his hands, palms up, in supplication. "Please, if you'll allow me to get back on the subject…."

"Draco you just admitted to a dirty trick to the woman who is teaching you how to wash your clothes. You'll be lucky if I don't write out the directions so you'll accidently dye your underpants pink!"

"Why would you dye my underpants… wait, underpants? I'm not five, Granger. Bloody Hell we are so off subject now!"

"Because it would be emasculating and I would love to see the look on your face when you pull them out of the wash."

Draco dipped his fingers into his cold tea and flicked them at Hermione's face.

She blinked and sputtered, laughing. "Cut it out, you shit!"

He did it again, but now they were both laughing.

"Okay, enough Lord Malfoy. Hey, I'm starving. You want to go get a beer?" Hermione wiped her face with the back of her hand and popped up onto her feet, bent over and grabbed her and Draco's mugs, and walked into the kitchen.

Draco was rather hungry himself and had started thinking about what was lurking in his freezer, but was startled and pleased that she'd invited him out with her.

"Uh, sure. That would be fantastic. Do you have somewhere in mind?" Draco had been wary of eating in the Muggle restaurants across the way from his flat, simply because he didn't like eating alone in public. These days he always felt like he had a target on his head, or a large blinking sign that said "FREAK". If there was one thing that the mugging last month had made him aware of, it was that he stood out in some odd way to the Muggles and that was a bad thing.

"There's actually a place not too far from here, if you don't mind taking a cab. It's closer to my place. Speaking of which, did you know I live about two and a half kilometers from here?"

Hermione stood at the sink and flipped on the water with one hand, rinsed the two mugs, opened the dish washer, plopped the mugs on the top rack and popped the door shut with a little flick of her foot.

"That's incredibly convenient you know", she continued as she wiped her hands dry on a paper towel.

"What's incredibly convenient? The dishwasher? Yes I suppose it will be now that I know how to fucking work it."

Draco watched her moving through his kitchen, a place of so much physical trauma and confusion for him, so confidently and smoothly, and was jealous. She made this seem so simple. Then he smirked. Just like in school. If that Little Girl could do it – there was no way he'd ever use the M word again – then he could do it too. He admitted she had the advantage being Muggle-born, but he figured this just meant she wouldn't feel like she had need to improve, whereas he was starting from nothing and had no concept of 'good enough' when it came to Muggle survival.

He'd be the best damn Muggle in England, damn it.

"Well yes, Lord Malfoy, dishwashers are incredibly convenient, that's why they were invented. But what I meant was that it's incredibly convenient that you live two and a half kilometers from my flat. Because a round trip makes a 5K! I can run here! It's a great route, now that I think of it. Lots of trees, the park is right behind you, I bet I can find a coffee shop in between…"

"What, you mean like for exercise? I hope you're not planning on doing that now, because I won't be joining you. I'm hungry." Draco stood up and went to the closet to grab a jacket, then, looking at Hermione, grabbed an additional one for her.

"Here," he said, tossing her the extra jacket. "It's started to rain."

"Precisely why we're taking a cab now, Malfoy. And no, I'm not planning on running tonight in the rain. Can you imagine how gigantic my hair would be by the end?"

"Large enough that you'd be unfit for public display, that's for sure." Draco smirked at her and then reached over to pull her hood up. "Better protect the masses. It really is different now, though. Not as… um… riotous?" He tried for diplomacy since he was close enough to slap. He didn't want a repeat of The Third Year Smackdown, as he called it in his own memory.

"Oh thank you so much for your chivalry Lord Malfoy. I guess all my magic was stored in my hair, or something. It's much less likely to attack people now." Hermione flipped a lock out and playfully tickled his face, which made him jump back. He didn't realize he was still standing so close to her. He turned towards the door and beckoned to her to follow.

"You know, your hair is different now too." She said as she followed him down the stairs to the street.

"No shite, there's barely any there. I can't stand it being this short, but I really didn't have a choice when that bloody nurse shaved half my head for the stitches. I took one look in a mirror and begged her to just finish off the rest of it. That cow was going to make me walk out of the hospital with half my hair shaved off!"

"Wait, what? Why did you need stitches? Oh! There's a taxi!" Hermione's hand flipped up in the air to wave down the cab, and Draco held the door open for her to climb in ahead of him.

To Be Continued


	6. Chapter 6 Getting to Know You

Author's Note: I own no person, no place, no thing - except the plot! If you recognize it, it probably belongs to Ms. Rowling or some other awesome super-human.

Chapter 06 Getting to Know You

Hermione and Draco had been laughing for two solid hours, swapping their most comical stories about their experiences when their Wizarding lives collided with their Muggle lives. They'd been through two pitchers of Newcastle and one vegetarian pizza, and Draco was just considering ordering a third pitcher when Hermione happened to look down at her wristwatch.

"Oh my goodness!" She exclaimed. "It's nearly 10:30, and I have practice in the morning!"

"Practice for what?" Draco asked. Hermione hadn't mentioned anything, all day, about what she did for a living, or even how she'd ended up here in Little Whinging as a Muggle, and he realized only now that he'd never bothered to ask. 'Wow, way to go. You've found one person to talk to in three months and you don't even ask her what she does for a living?' he rolled his eyes inwardly. 'Nice to see, deep down inside you're still a complete tool, Malfoy.'

"Oh, it's nothing really, it's just a music thing I do with some people I met at a local church. But I'm the only violin player so I really do have to be there, and I really still need to practice tonight." Hermione was collecting her borrowed jacket and waving to the waitress to get the bill as Draco frowned.

"You play the violin?" he asked. "I didn't know you played any musical instrument."

"Oh? Yes, well I guess I've been playing since I was seven, but music wasn't a big study program at Hogwarts so I never brought my violin with me. It's really just for my own fun, I don't really play classically. I've always leaned towards American bluegrass, it's just so much more fun to play and bounce around and sing and dance… And I just made myself sound like an idiot, didn't I?" Hermione grinned sheepishly. "Really, it's just for fun, but since I joined a group I am trying to take it somewhat seriously. Especially since I don't have a job yet, what else am I going to do in my abundant free time?"

Draco was completely nonplussed. She liked to bounce and dance and sing while playing American bluegrass on the violin?

What the hell was American bluegrass?

Draco repeated his last question out loud.

"Well," Hermione said as she was putting on her jacket and hopping down from her barstool. "I guess it's a combination of American Country music with equal parts of gospel and folk. It's a lot of old traditional stuff mostly, but the group I've joined is trying to bring more of the contemporary bluegrass over to a larger audience. I read on the web the other day that one of my favorite bands, Nickel Creek, is coming to town in a couple months." She looked at Draco expectantly. "Was that a big garbled mess to you, Lord Malfoy?"

"Oh, most definitely yes, Ms. Granger. I haven't got a clue what you just said. Except the web thing. I've figured that out from the Library. The Muggles use those plastic computer boxes to read information posted on electronic bulletin boards from all over the world." Draco looked over the bill as he reached for his wallet.

"I can split that with you, I actually have cash on me today, miracle of miracles." Hermione made to grab at the tab, but Draco held it up over his head so she couldn't reach it.

"Ms. Granger, you have to be kidding. You've saved me months of agonizing heartache and misery by teaching me how to use my household appliances, with the bonus of joining me for the most decent meal I've had in three months. This one is on me, my dear." Draco used his most prim and aristocratic voice possible as he opened his wallet to fish out a few pound notes.

"I had a really good time too, I haven't laughed that much in ages – holy cow, Draco you can't do that!" Hermione clapped her hand over his wallet, which he'd had splayed wide open, flashing hundreds in pounds for the entire restaurant to see.

"What?" Draco flinched and looked up at her.

"Draco, you look like a very wealthy, very foolish tourist sitting there with your wallet wide open and that much money hanging out."

"Well its bloody dark in here and it's hard to read the tiny writing on these notes. Can you tell which is which? I left my reading glasses at home."

Hermione chuckled as she directed him towards a couple of twenty pound notes. "Honestly, you might as well paint a target..." A light bulb went off in Hermione's head. "Hey… when you were mugged, did your wallet get stolen?"

"No, I still have my wallet… well, yes, my cash was gone wasn't it? Hmmph, that was damned rude." Draco hadn't really thought of it, in light of his head wound and fancy new haircut.

"Well, Draco, I think I just solved a mystery for you. Being as you haven't done anything overtly odd or attention-grabbing since we left your flat, I am going to deduce that the individuals that popped you in the head with a beer bottle and left you lying unconscious in the street had probably been sitting near you in the pub and saw you, um, struggle, with the contents of your wallet. Really, that's got to be it! You got mugged for your money. It happens a lot, which is why you shouldn't carry so much cash or show it off around a lot of people. That's one reason why I usually use by bank card. Don't you have one? They're quite handy, and much safer than carrying cash." Hermione shrugged. "At least you didn't get shot, or stabbed, or –"

"I got hit in the head for my money?" Draco's gaping fish face was back. "I could have died! I could have been permanently brain damaged! The Surgeon who stitched my head told me I was half an inch from permanent injury! He said I was lucky to only have a concussion, that I could have… Merlin's beard, Hermione, I've been thinking this whole time I was attacked by people who KNEW me, or knew what I was, and I've been bloody terrified to go out on my own."

"Oh, Draco, I'm sorry. I can't imagine how different all of this is for you. But you have to understand, most people walk around with less than 50 pounds in their wallets, and a lot of people haven't got much more than that in their bank accounts. There are a lot of under-employed and unemployed people out there who would look at a person like you that doesn't seem to mind flashing their bulging wallets as a bit of a sitting duck. An easy target. Especially if you were alone."

"But that's barbaric! I could have been killed!"

"That's life, Draco. There are a lot of people in the world, and not all of them have good intentions. Best thing we can do is keep our guard up and live responsibly so we don't leave ourselves open to attack. Constant Vigilance, as Moody would say."

"We're not at war anymore, Hermione." Draco muttered.

"No, but there are still enemies among us. The enemy has just changed up a bit. At least they can't use magic!" Hermione waggled her fingers spookily at him.

"I would most assuredly be dead by now if they could." Draco dejectedly rubbed his face with his hands, and then raked his hands through his close-cropped hair. He could feel the itchy scar, a jagged x-mark that disappeared into his hairline above his left ear. Hermione noticed his action and pulled his head close to her own so she could inspect the spot he was rubbing.

"Wow, you really are lucky you don't have any permanent damage. Of course," she smiled at him, "your hair may grow funny around the scar. It might stick straight out!"

Draco groaned. "Cut it out, Granger. Now you're scaring AND depressing the shite out of me."

Hermione laughed again and grabbed his hand to pull him towards the exit. "Come on, you can walk me home and we'll fetch you a cab from there."

"Are you sure it's safe? I am not interested in getting mugged again, nor am I excited to bring barbarians chasing after you just for being around me. You're a bit on the small and twitchy side."

Draco smirked down at her as they walked out of the restaurant. She really was only about six or eight inches shorter than his 6'2" frame. Maybe it was all that hair….but no, her Muggle-tastic hair wasn't that much of an issue anymore either. Maybe it was just being this close to another person, and a female at that, that was making him feel so much larger than he usually did.

Or maybe it was the way her hand seemed so much smaller than his, wrapped around his own, once again. He motioned to her hand clasped around his.

"And you don't seem capable of walking down the street without holding someone's hand."

"Hey, don't go calling me twitchy, or I won't invite you to come with me tomorrow to my practice. And I am capable of walking down the street without holding hands, like I said earlier, it's just a habit. An old, bad, habit." Hermione tried to pull her hand back, but Draco wouldn't let go.

"It's all right Little Girl, terrified or not, barbarians or not, I'll get you home safe." Draco smiled at her, and Hermione smiled back.

"So," he said. "You're really inviting me to go with you to your Muggle American grass violin dance practice?"

Hermione burst into giggles. "American grass violin dance? It's a contemporary bluegrass band, and I won't be dancing. I only do that when I'm listening to music, not playing music."

Draco waved his hand in the air. "Semantics. So, do I get to go?"

"Do you want to?"

Draco shrugged his shoulders casually. "I don't work on the weekends, and tomorrow happens to be Saturday, which means I don't have anything to do except clean my flat and read another book. And honestly, Little Girl, I am tired of my flat, and," here Draco looked around covertly and then bent down to whisper in her ear, "after three months, I am just about sick of books. But don't tell Granger I said that, she'd punch me in the nose."

Hermione laughed and whacked his arm playfully. "Okay, Lord Malfoy, I take pity on your lack of weekend frivolities and permit you to accompany me to my band practice. Meet me right here, tomorrow morning at 9:45. But don't you knock books again, or I'll punch you in your ferrety nose."

"Oh, no. You didn't." Draco dropped her hand and turned to face her with a shocked look on his face.

"I did!" Hermione clapped her hands over her mouth to cover her giggles.

Draco rolled his eyes. She was far too funny, and fun to be around, for his own good. She poked fun at him, piqued his curiosity in the world around him, and more than anything Hermione seemed like a true kindred spirit. Another lonely soul out in this strange world.

But she fit in it so much better, and maybe, with her to guide him along, he would fit in too. 'At least well enough to not get myself bloody murdered,' he thought cynically.

"If you kindly do not mention the F-word ever, ever, ever again, I will not only accompany you in the morning, I will bring you coffee." Draco raised an eyebrow as he watched Hermione consider his offer.

"Oh, you so have a deal Mr. Malfoy. Something you should know about me, the fastest way into my heart is with coffee and music." Hermione sighed dramatically and leaned up against the brick building they'd paused at only one block from the Italian place they'd had dinner in. She opened her day-bag and dug through to the bottom, seeking her keys.

Draco's eyebrow lifted even higher. Coffee and music, indeed? Not books? She was full of surprises, his new friend.

"I've got you now, you little bugger!" She struggled, and the large notebook and small journal fell out, but she came up triumphantly with a small keychain with an assortment of multi-colored keys attached. Draco bent down and picked up her books as she threw her day-bag back over her shoulder and fit her key into the locked door. He handed the books to her when she turned back to him, propping the door open with her foot.

"Draco, I had a really good time today. I've got to say, it's completely amazing and oddly comforting to find you, of all people, out here with me in the regular world. Thanks for giving me a chance to help you out with all of your household questions."

Hermione smiled up at him. Her green eyes glittered in the streetlight. Her borrowed coat swallowed her up, and she'd had to push it up her arms to keep it from drowning her hands.

Draco thought she looked absolutely adorable.

'What?' he thought to himself. Then, with a 'what the hell' attitude, he held his hand out to her, and caught her hand. He flipped the back of it up, and pulled it to his mouth to kiss it.

"Ms. Granger, thank you so much for dragging me out for coffee, for answering all of my household questions, and for introducing me to the regular world. I will see you, right here, at 9:45 tomorrow morning." He smirked at her as he released her hand. "Goodnight, Hermione."

With that, he walked back towards the restaurant they'd eaten at, to find a cab to take him back home.

"Goodnight, Draco!" he heard her call behind him, then he heard a door slam, and then she was up her stairs and inside her flat.

/…/

Hermione's heart was pounding faster than her feet as she ran up the two flights of stairs to her fortress of a flat. The first floor was home to a hair salon that wasn't open past 6pm, even on the weekends, and her own front door was behind a locked staircase that adjoined their employee entrance. There was acres of open space around her, with plenty of privacy for her to practice her violin and singing without disturbing anyone. Her living room windows overlooked the street that housed the front of the salon, so she didn't open them much because of the smell. But her back studio windows, where she had her practice area, overlooked an open courtyard that was encircled by an eclectic assortment of businesses and shops, including an alley that opened next to the restaurant that she and Draco had dined at.

Draco.

Of all the people to bump into in her new, quiet life, he was a complete surprise. He was a contemporary, and they had so much history in so many different emotional ranges, that she couldn't help but reach out to him at every chance she could today. She knew that his changed features and his uncharacteristic bewilderment and helplessness now was making him more appealing to her than he ever could have back at Hogwarts or anywhere in the Wizarding world. There, the Malfoy's were masters of their universe, and Draco was nothing if not a Malfoy. He'd always been so arrogant, so formal, so collected. To stumble across him in the public Library – where he WORKED – of all places, and to have him lay his woes at her feet was endearing, at the least, and… despite her more sensible intentions, downright sexy, at best. It was as if God hand-delivered her someone to care for, someone who actually needed her and could use her insight, and would appreciate her presence. Draco was as lonely as she was, that much was obvious. And he was surprisingly funny, and smart, and his curiosity appealed to her sense of adventure. If he'd consent to being a companion, they could try all sorts of new things together!

When Hermione, Harry and Ron had been together in the world, they'd mostly been on the run, or devoted to the task of finding and destroying Voldemort's Horcruxes. There were no vacations or opportunities to explore the history of the countryside around them. They'd also barely been adults, and Hermione was only just getting used to the idea that she could do whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted. And thanks to Harry's estate, she really could go wherever she wanted. She'd spent the last month imagining herself exploring the world alone, or maybe even in casual ways with her friend Sue and her family, but after today, well, as of today maybe her future wouldn't be quite so lonesome.

When her friend Sue mentioned her husband's bluegrass band was looking for a violinist, Hermione had been thrilled to get the chance to be a part of a group again. She'd always loved playing her violin, and was actually quite proficient at it, thanks to her parents, who besides being dentists, were also accomplished living-room musicians. Her mother had played the piano and the violin, and her father had played the mandolin, banjo, and guitar really well, and the bagpipes very poorly. But they had spent so much time laughing, and the music kept them close throughout the years.

Losing the music with her parents was one of the harder things she faced in them losing their memory of her. Playing with this new band was very therapeutic for her, and practicing her violin was definitely helping her work out her stress and abandonment issues.

When Shaun, the lead vocalist and mandolin player, told her that the other band mates and he had all decided she would be a great fit for their band, and given her a listing of all the artists, albums, and songs they wanted her to familiarize herself with, she'd tackled it like any other project in school. Wide open. Total focus towards her goal of perfection.

'Which is why, tonight, you will be working on those two Nickel Creek instrumentals or you'll fall behind, Little Girl.' Hermione smiled to herself. Draco thought he was making fun of her the way he said Little Girl with two very obvious and mocking capital letters, but she liked the way he'd nicknamed her hand-holding habit.

He might not realize it, but something as simple as a funny nickname made her feel so much more cared for than she had felt in, well, years.

Hmm, and he was meeting her in the morning to come watch her practice.

'Right,' she thought as she picked up her violin and adjusted the tuning, 'don't want to embarrass ourselves in front of Lord Malfoy tomorrow.' Hermione opened one of her studio windows out onto the courtyard and settled her violin into the crook of her neck. She glanced at her sheet music on the stand next to her, lifted her bow, and then she was off.

/…../

Draco stood on the sidewalk at the corner where the Italian restaurant opened up next to an alley that led to a large courtyard. He was standing under the streetlight, watching the cars for a cab, when he heard the sound of a violin behind him. It wasn't sad, lonesome wailing like he was used to in Wizarding symphonies: it was sweet, fast, and lively. He'd just cocked his ear up in the direction of the music when he saw an available cab and waved to it. As he opened the door and climbed in, listing his address to the driver, he couldn't help but wonder what kind of music it was he'd be watching Hermione play tomorrow.

/…../

At 9:45 the next morning, Hermione was standing at her front windows looking down at the street. She smiled when she saw Draco turn around the corner, and bounded out her flat door and down the stairs to her exit. She'd already carried her violin in it's gig-bag and her day-bag down, all she had to do was open the door at the bottom of her stairwell, and then the entrance door she shared with the salon, and there he was, coffee in each hand, and smirking at her in his oh, so Draco way.

"Good morning, Little Girl. May in interest you in some coffee?"

"Good morning Lord Malfoy, and yes you may." Hermione reached out her hand. "Which one?"

"They're both the same, black. I have sugar and creamers in my jacket pocket." He handed her a cup, and then reached into his pocket for a couple of sugars and creamer packs.

Hermione accepted three of each and propped her backside against the building while she constructed the perfect cup of coffee. Mission accomplished, she chucked her rubbish in the nearby trash bin and then grabbed her gear and slung the straps over her shoulders.

Hermione turned to Draco, and smiled. "You are my hero, Draco. I stayed up so late last night playing, I overslept this morning and in am desperate need of this," here she held up her paper cup, "heavenly ambrosia that you have so kindly brought to me. I will never call you the F-word again."

Draco quirked his eyebrow at his companion. "Really, Hermione? That's all I had to do in order to get you to obey my will? A single cup of coffee?"

"I never said anything about obeying your will! I said I wouldn't call you the F-word anymore!"

"Oh, didn't you get my owl this morning? I edited our conversation last night, replacing 'don't call me the F-word anymore' to 'obey my will in all things'. I'm sure you appreciate how much more satisfactorily that resolves our friendship. You'll obey me and I can do and say whatever I want."

Draco glanced down at her, feigning disbelief at her half-smile, half-gape. "What? No owl? Oh that's right, I don't have an owl, or the magical means to communicate with owls or other people. Or time travel to edit conversation. Well, I guess we'll stick with the original then." Draco sipped his coffee scrunched his face up as if he were remembering an unsavory thought. "No F-word, and you get all the coffee your heart desires. Say the F-word once, and I'll cut you off!"

Hermione was giggling at this point, and playfully bumped him with her shoulder.

"I had no idea you were so skilled at playful sarcasm Lord Malfoy. If I was another girl, I'd think you were flirting with me." The words popped out her mouth. There was nothing she could do about it, they were out there. 'Whoops,' she thought, and blushed.

Draco turned to her and took her day-bag out her right hand and slung it over his left shoulder. Then he moved her coffee to her right hand, and hooked her left hand into his arm. Her violin case was slung across her back, leaving her quite free and unburdened as they walked down the sidewalk towards Hermione's band practice.

"My dear Ms. Granger, how do you know I'm not?" he asked politely.

To Be Continued


	7. Chapter 7 A Musical Interlude

Author's Note: I own no person, no place, no thing – except the plot! If you recognize it, it probably belongs to Ms. Rowling or some other awesome super-human.

Chapter 07 A Musical Interlude

_"My dear Ms. Granger, how do you know I'm not?" he asked politely. _

Hermione's face burned, and she felt a tremor run up her entire body. His smooth, soft voice was echoing around in her head so much, and so fully, that she was barely aware that they'd made it to the front of the church hall where she was set to meet her band mates for rehearsal. Taking her chance to jump away from the sudden tension, she pointed her coffee towards the church and said, "Here we are! We'll just go on up through the front entrance so we can head straight in and I can get set up."

Hermione let her hand drop out of Draco's arm, and took a few loud, deep breaths through her mouth. Then she started her regular warm-up bouncing jog up the steps to the church's front doors, which were open wide to let in some of the rare autumn sunshine and warm air.

Draco watched her quizzically as she blushed and bobbed away from him. She was gasping and bouncing around like a bit of an idiot.

"Are you hyperventilating?" he asked. That would be divine, if all it took was a little gentle flirting to shake her so thoroughly. 'Haven't lost your touch yet, Malfoy!' he thought to himself.

Hermione rolled her eyes and turned her head to look at him as she continued bouncing in high jerky steps up the church stairs.

"No, Malfoy, I am not hyperventilating. As dashing as you are, I am actually warming up. I usually do this while I'm walking here, but since I've been otherwise diverted by your rapacious wit and delicious coffee, I've got to do what I can in the moments I have."

She smirked down at him and then turned back up the steps, shaking her shoulders and flexing her arms. 'Thank God for small mercies and changes of topics!' she thought to herself. Hermione was much more comfortable focusing on getting ready to sing and play at this morning's rehearsal than she was engaging in flirtatious banter with the ridiculously good looking man who'd brought her coffee and was now happily following her up the steps. The morning sunshine glinted off of his blond hair, off of his straight, white teeth, and his eyes gleamed as he teased her. He was, in a word, sexy. He stood there in his jeans and Converse and blue v-necked jumper, looking like a runway model, and carrying her day-bag to boot!

It didn't help at all that Draco had starred in her dreams last night, kissing her hand, reaching for her hair, laughing as he met her eyes with his dark gray ones. No nightmares, just this pervasive sense of, what? Anticipation? Excitement?

"You bob and bounce two blocks to your local church, gasping like a fish the whole way? I think I'd like to be a passer-by on the street one day while you do that." Draco smiled at the idea, it sounded bloody loony. He finished his coffee and chucked it into the nearby rubbish bin, and followed her path up the steps, minus the bobbing and arm flapping.

"Draco, I think most people would look at me and understand what I was doing, seeing as I have a violin on my back. You don't get it because you're not Muggle enough yet. But don't worry, I'll have you fixed up in no time." Next time he came with her, maybe she'd warm up her singing voice too while they were walking. That ought to embarrass him well and good! 'If he likes what he sees and hears today, that is,' she thought to herself. Hermione was slightly apprehensive about Draco's response to her singing and playing. She certainly wasn't the best in the world by any means, but Hermione did well enough vocally. And she and the rest of the band were really beyond merely good instrumentally. 'If it's good enough for God, it's good enough for Draco Malfoy,' she told herself firmly.

"While I admit to being under-educated in the Muggle-culture area, are you sure it's 'fixing' I need? Surely I'm not broken, am I?" Draco followed her inside his very first Muggle church sanctuary, and gazed around with wide eyes. He dropped his voice down to a whisper.

"You know, Hermione, I've never been to church before. Are you sure it's okay for me to come in? I'm not going to be struck down by lightning or anything, am I?"

Hermione laughed out loud and took his hand in hers for the first time that day.

"No, I don't think you're broken. But under-educated, I'll agree with that. Come on Draco, I assure you that God will not strike you dead for walking into His House. He might actually be celebrating to see you here." Hermione winked at him. "Maybe if you like what you see today, you can join me tomorrow morning."

Did she just wink at him? Draco's heart jumped in his chest. Their playful banter had his blood heated, and he was damned curious about her music, but if that minx had just winked at him, well. He might have to just do something about that.

He ran his thumb across the back her hand that he was holding.

Hermione felt the caress of his thumb like an electric jolt straight into her lower belly. Her eyelids fluttered as the sensation overwhelmed her senses, and for just a second, she paused in her forward march into the sanctuary. 'Whoaaaa…' her mind registered the unexpected intensity of her reaction. She couldn't help it, she had to look up at him. When their eyes met, it was obvious that he must have felt the exact same thing. His eyes were almost black, but they were round and wide, as if he'd been shocked.

"Did you feel that?" he hissed at her.

He reached out hesitantly with his free hand and touched her hair. She had it in a single braid which rested over her right shoulder. Her eyes had gone all smoky and lazy, half-slitted like a sleepy cat. Her skin looked pale and creamy against the deep navy of her long sleeved t-shirt, and her cheeks held just the slightest flush.

He was just about to touch her blushing check when they heard a voice call out, "All right, Hermione? I think we're just waiting on Sutton now."

Draco quickly dropped his hand as he looked to the source of the voice. It had been a lilting Scots accent, male, friendly. He saw a short, red-bearded man of about twenty-five or thirty, waving towards them from the stage at the back of the church. Even though Draco's instincts were calling for him to drag her to the nearest corner and try for that electric shock again, he didn't know if he was altogether ready to jump her in a church. The little he did know of the Muggle's Christian God was that He struck down sinners, and Draco had a feeling that what he wanted to do to Hermione's body right now would be considered sinful.

'Merlin, where has all this lust come from?' Draco's heart was pounding like a fourteen year old boy's with his first good look at a naked girl. He could smell her shampoo, and the coffee on her breath, and something else, something musky and spicy and…

Ohhhhh… It was pheromones. It was her body... Calling to him.

Holy. Shite.

"Mione!"

Two little girls, identical twins obviously, raced down the aisle and sprang at Hermione, jumping up and down and hugging her around the waist. Draco and Hermione both looked down, startled, and their hands broke apart. Hermione fell back dramatically under the onslaught of toddler love, laughing and hugging the girls in return.

"Cut it out my little fairy-girls! You're getting so big you're going to squish me flat!" Hermione tickled their round bellies and offered up her cheek for some baby kisses. Then she smiled up at Draco, who was completely nonplussed to see Hermione squatted down on the floor getting attacked by the enthusiastic children. They were obviously not real fairies, but they did have sparkly fake wings attached to their backs.

"Draco, this is…hmm…" Hermione pretended to evaluate the girls very seriously, taking in their wings and princess costumes. She stroked her chin and raised her eyebrow for added emphasis.

"Yes, I've figured it out. This beautiful princess is Tinkerbell," here she poked the green-outfitted girl, who giggled and nodded happily – "And this little princess is…"

"Cinerelly Fairy Princesh!" The blue-outfitted girl announced proudly. Her long strawberry-gold hair was parted down the center and braided, whereas her sister had two ponytails. Their little green eyes appraised Draco carefully as he squatted down in front of them. He extended a hand to each girl, who took it, and he shook them up and down.

"How do you do? My name is Draco. I'm Hermione's friend. It's very nice to meet you, Tinkerbell and Cinderella Fairy Princess. I think you have very lovely dresses."

Draco lifted his eyes to Hermione, whose mouth had popped open in surprise. He smiled as he released the girls' hands, and reached over and pushed Hermione's jaw shut. This seemed to shock Hermione out of her stupor. She positively beamed at him. The girls giggled and twirled around, showing off their sparkly costumes.

"Actually, this is Rosie," Hermione gestured to Cinderella, "And Tinkerbell over here is Ellie, short for Elinor." Their parents are big _Lord of the Rings _fans."

"Yes we are! I wanted to name them Arwen and Eowyn, but me wife insisted they'd have an easier time on the schoolyard with more common names! How's it going, I'm Shaun Fraser." The red-bearded Scotsman extended his hand to Draco, who'd stood back up.

"Draco Malfoy, pleasure to meet you. And I understand about the schoolyard thing, I hated my name until I was about fifteen." Draco shook Shaun's hand as Rosie and Ellie giggled and bounced and squealed all around them.

"What made you stop hating it?" Hermione asked curiously. She was learning more about this enigma that was her former school-house rival with every minute that passed by.

Draco grinned at her. "The girls, obviously." He waggled his eyebrows in faux salaciousness. Shaun's loud laughter echoed across the room as Hermione blushed bright red.

"What's up guys? Well hello, and who is this?" A voluptuous blond in running gear strolled up to them, wrapping her arm around Shaun's waist. It was obvious from her green eyes to her upturned nose that she was the twin girls's mother.

"Mummy! Mummy! Dis is Dayco! He's Mione's fwend!" Rosie pronounced happily as she tugged on her Mother's leg. Ellie had climbed onto the arm of the nearest pew and balanced there, holding her father's hand.

"He's a boy. Wike Daddy." Ellie declared. "Dat means he can be da Prinsh an' me an' Rosie can be da Princheses." Ellie jumped at her Dad, who caught her neatly and turned her upside down. Ellie giggled madly and kicked her legs, nearly catching her Dad in the face.

"Draco, this is Sue, Shaun's wife, and my enthusiastic running partner. Sue, this is Draco. He's an old school friend. I just happened to bump into him at the Library yesterday, and we've been catching up. Draco brought me coffee this morning, so I graciously allowed him to tag along." Hermione explained as Draco and Sue shook hands and exchanged greetings.

"Anyhoo, Renny's just finished his sound check, and I'm about to do mine. Sutton can be last since he's officially late." Shaun told Hermione as he sat his squirmy daughter down.

"Nice to meet you, Draco. Come on Hermione, let's get this going so we can get out of here by lunch. I'm already starving!" Shaun popped his wife on the bum and tickled his girls' faces, then started up the aisle towards the stage. Hermione turned to follow, then stopped and turned back to Draco.

"We'll probably be here a couple hours. We want to go through our set for tomorrow morning as well as rehearse some songs for a wedding we're playing at next weekend. If you get bored, there's a book in my day-bag." Hermione tilted her head as she started walking backwards to the stage, where Shaun had started his sound check, picking at a mandolin and adjusting his microphone. "I forgot to tell you, I'll be singing too, today. Do not make fun of me or you will live to regret it." With that, she turned around and bounded up to the stage and opened her gig bag.

"Come on Draco, if you want you can come sit with the girls and I. I'd love to hear all the embarrassing stories you can possibly tell me about your and Hermione's school days." Sue took her girls in hand and gestured with her head for him to follow. Draco agreed and followed the girls towards the front of the church, where they turned right at the very front row of pews, which were already decorated with blankets, dolls, and Sue's bag of equipment for the girls' two-hour entertainment and care.

"So, we just met Hermione a few weeks ago, really, so I really don't know that much about her outside of her activities with the band. We met while running at the park. Hermione picked up a toy that one of the girls dropped and we just went on from there. So I also know she just moved here from London, and that she's read a lot of books. Honestly my husband and I consider ourselves pretty well read, and we've made a bit of a game of it, trying to see how vague our literary references we can make. She gets them all." Sue rolled her eyes and smiled. "So I'm assuming since she ran into you at the Library that she was reading?"

Draco smiled. The Hermione that Sue described sounded very much like the Hermione he knew as well.

"Yes, she had just shown up and walked past my aisle, when I noticed her. She's the only person I've ever met that can actually read and walk at the same time. I'd never seen her there before yesterday. I haven't actually seen Hermione since before I left London. I've been here three months. Since we live so close to each other now, and neither of us really know anyone else in town, we figured we'd hang out and get to know each other better." Draco shrugged his shoulder, trying to look casual as he watched Hermione tuning her violin. She was standing in the morning sun, and her hair shone with that golden light that used to naturally surround her.

"So you two don't know each other well?" Sue asked.

"Well, no, we do I guess. We've actually known each other since we were eleven. Since we attended the same boarding school, we probably know a lot more about each other than we realize. But to be honest with you, Hermione was one of my biggest rivals in school. She was always first in the class, and I had to struggle like mad to keep my place as second. We didn't really get on until after we got out of school and… er, worked together for a couple of years. Then, when my Mother took ill and passed away in the Spring, I moved out here."

"Oh, Draco, I'm sorry about your Mother. Where did your family live? How has your Father been with losing your mother and with you moving away?" Sue popped her hand over her mouth when she saw Draco flinch at the word 'father'. "Oh I'm sorry, that's awfully forward of me."

"No, it's quite all right. Thank you for your condolences, my Mother was a very nice person and I'm glad to know she isn't suffering anymore. My family's estate is in Wiltshire, and I have no intention of moving back there anytime soon. My, uh, my father is actually in prison. Has been for a couple years now. He most likely doesn't even know I've left." Draco kept his voice casual, fighting down the bitterness that swept through him.

He glanced back up at Hermione, and she grinned and waved at him with her bow. He watched her pluck at the strings of her violin and turn towards her two microphones. He guessed the shorter one must be for her violin, and the taller one for her to sing into. This was going to be strange. Draco hadn't heard that much Muggle music, and he definitely didn't remember ever hearing Hermione sing. He sighed.

She was an enigma, his new, old friend.

Sue was startled to hear Draco's confession about his father, and mentally stuttered when he mentioned the word 'estate'. He obviously looked and spoke like an aristocrat, so she was massively curious about how this young man's father ended up in prison, but she wisely chose a subject change instead.

"So, where do you work, Draco?"

"Mmm? Oh, the Library. I am a Librarian." He smiled ruefully at her. "It's a good thing Hermione and I got over our school-day rivalries, as I'm sure she'll probably be spending a lot of time at my place of work. When we were kids, Hermione spent most of her free time in the school Library. I was probably fourteen by the time I figured out the reason why she stayed so far ahead of me in class was the easy access to information, and the quality peace and quiet of the Library. It was when I decided to finally follow her example and started studying in there as well that I fell in love with books."

"Wow, Hermione's got to love that about you. You're like a dream guy for her!" Sue playfully nudged his shoulder. She had not been unaware of the looks those two were giving each other, and thought it was absolutely adorable that they'd grown up together as rivals, and incredibly romantic that they had happened to settle in the same town.

"I don't know about dream guy." Draco's eyes followed Hermione's movements on the stage as she chatted with her band mates and conducted her microphone check. This situation was completely foreign to him, but she was obviously in her element.

"I don't know about dream guy," Draco repeated. "I'd be happy with being a good friend. She's an interesting girl."

"Interesting, eh?" Sue winked at him. "Doesn't hurt that she's cute as a button and single too, does it?"

Draco's eyes flicked back up to the stage, where Hermione had started her bouncing and heavy breathing routine again. He couldn't help smiling.

"No Sue, it doesn't hurt at all."

/…../

Shaun and Renny, the guitar player, were standing close to Hermione, all tuning and tweaking their instruments against each others' sounds when the last band member, Sutton showed up. He sprinted up the aisle and jumped onto the stage with a "ta daaa!" and a great sweeping of his arms. His band mates immediately fussed at him about his tardiness as he greeted them all, and Draco was dismayed when the wanker stopped to kiss Hermione on the cheek before he walked to the back of the stage to pick up his stand-up bass. Draco felt marginally better when he saw that Hermione was very uncomfortable with the gesture, and almost smiled when he saw her turn and subtly wipe her cheek with her sleeve.

Sue noticed this action too. "That's Sutton. He's a horrible flirt, and hasn't quite caught onto the idea that our Hermione isn't interested in him. I don't think he's met many girls that don't go for him." She shrugged her shoulder as she helped one of her girls disentangle a bead necklace from her plastic crown.

"Seeing as you're here now though, maybe the boy will get the hint."

Draco was about to reply, maybe to say something about how he and Hermione weren't dating, but then Shaun began to speak into his microphone, so he decided to let the subject drop.

"Eh there, my wee fairy girls, what song do you want Daddy and the gang to play first? The Butterfly Song or Tom Bombadily?"

The rest of his band mates groaned good-naturedly, but Ellie and Rosie jumped up and down in the open space at the base of the stage and shouted, "Tom Bombadily! Tom Bombadilo!"

"All right gang, you heard me girls! Hermione, if you will."

Draco watched as Hermione took a deep breath, fit her violin under her chin and raised her bow. She met his eyes and winked. Then her bow descended, and she was off.

Draco's jaw nearly hit the floor.

Hermione leapt into the song, her fingers flying quickly up and down the neck of her violin. Her band mates jumped in and joined her in a riotous, faced pace tune that had the little girls dancing and spinning in circles. Renny, the guitarist, honestly looked too old to Draco to even be able to move his hands as fast as he did, and Shaun's body shook as he sped through the notes on his mandolin. But Draco's eyes were locked on Hermione, who swayed and rocked on her feet as she swept through the violent pace of the song.

"Are you familiar with Nickel Creek?" Sue asked quietly. She appreciated Draco's shocked expression thoroughly. If that boy wasn't in love with Hermione before, he would be by the end of rehearsal.

"No. Well, Hermione mentioned the name last night. She said that it's one of her favorite bands." Draco was still watching Hermione attack her violin, the sun gleamed on her shining hair, and turned her skin a pale gold.

"Well that's true, I think they're a favorite of all of the guys too. This song is called _The House of Tom Bombadil_. He was a character in – "

"_The Lord of the Rings_, yes. I read them last month. Amazingly good stories. Very popular at the Library. We always have a waiting list on them." Draco noticed the girls out of the corner of his eye, shaking their little bums at their Dad and blowing raspberries as they danced to the song.

"Ah, now I get the name reference. Rosie and Elinor. Not nearly as exotic as Arwen and Eowyn, but good choices in themselves. No schoolyard bully can find fault in girls named after flowers." Draco smiled as Hermione whipped her arm back and forth, her bow and violin seemed like an extension of her body as the music poured forth from her.

Sue laughed quietly. "So Shaun told you about his other baby-name votes? Yes, I almost didn't trust him to fill out their birth certificates, lest he sneak something too far-fetched in there, but he finally agreed that Rosie and Elinor were fair enough homage's to Tolkein. Heaven forbid we have a son one day. I can't imagine that Frodo or Aragorn would have an easy time maintaining a low profile in school."

Draco chuckled at the joke. "You know, one of my best friends in school was named Blaise, and my cousin's name was Nymphadora. I'm named after a constellation, and unless I want to be disinherited I'm expected to name my children after constellations as well. It's a family tradition."

"Nymphadora! Oh my, that is exotic."

"Yes, well, her Mother, my Aunt Andromeda," here Draco raised his eyebrow, "is an eccentric woman. Mostly my cousin went by her last name, Tonks. Even after she married, everyone always called her Tonks."

Sue gasped. "I know that name! Hermione mentioned her! She said her friend Tonks and her husband were killed by some European mobsters, or something like that. It's just awful, really. So that's your cousin? I didn't think that happened too long ago."

"No, it didn't. They were killed at the beginning of May. My Aunt Andromeda is raising their son."

"Oh my Goodness, that's dreadful. I'm so sorry, Draco. And your Mother too! Wow, it sounds like you had just as bad of a year as Hermione!" Sue shook her head. "So, if you went to school with Hermione, and you said you two worked together, you must have known Harry Potter."

Draco jumped, startled badly, and stared at Sue. How did this woman know about Potter? Just then, with a final burst of flourish, _The House of Tom Bombadil _ came to an end. Hermione and her band mates all burst out laughing, and Hermione dramatically wiped the sweat off her brow and blew stray hairs away from her flushed face.

"Whew! That was a workout! Holy cow, guys! How about something a little slower to start with next time?" Hermione panted and stooped down to set down her violin and bow in their stand.

"That sun got so hot standing here, hang on I've got to get out of these long sleeves." Hermione jumped down from the stage and hooked her hands under the hem of her shirt and pulled it up over her head as she came to stand in front of Draco and Sue.

"Hey! How's it going?" Hermione smiled brightly at the pair as she stuffed her long-sleeves into her day-bag, leaving her standing in a pale green cotton tank-top that matched her shining eyes. Draco's mouth went dry. She really was incandescently beautiful. Her face was flushed and her hair was escaping her braid and curling in tiny tendrils around her face and neck that reminded him poignantly of a much younger Hermione, in knee socks and pleated skirts. How she'd grown and changed since then!

Of course, he had too. Draco was still surprised by how different he looked as a Muggle than he had as a wizard, but with the way Hermione was smiling at him right now, he decided it must be for the better. Even as allies, Hermione had never given him the kind of smiles and affection she'd shown him in the past – what?

Not even twenty-four hours.

Draco had been around Hermione for less than twenty-four hours and he knew he was in danger of developing a serious infatuation with her. 'Cute as a button and single too,' he repeated Sue's words to himself. 'Thank Merlin – er, thank God!' Draco figured since he was in God's House he'd give his thanks where they were more appropriately due.

"Good! I was just getting all sorts of interesting history from Draco here. I'd just asked him if he knew Harry when you guys finished the song." Sue good-naturedly fanned Hermione with a magazine. Hermione, in an almost perfect imitation of Draco, jumped, badly startled.

"Oh! Well yes. That's true. Yes, we all went to school together. Draco, Sue grew up just down the road from Harry." Hermione gave him a look that clearly said, 'No she doesn't know about the magic thing, buster,' and bent into her day-bag to grab her water bottle. She waved at Draco and Sue, then bounced back up onto the stage in time to start the next song.

"You lived by Harry?" Draco asked with a frown. Funny, he'd never given much thought to Potter's upbringing. Obviously he knew Potter was raised by some Muggle relatives of his mother, but that was really it.

Sue nodded. "Yes, just around the corner from here. I've lived in Little Whinging all my life. Well, outside the time I was at Uni, of course. I was a few years ahead of Harry in school, but I remember him clearly. His cousin was a right little turd, and his Aunt and Uncle were dreadful busy-bodies, but Harry was an all right kid. Kept to himself mostly, what with that big nob of a cousin of his always picking on him and beating him up. I don't think Harry's Aunt and Uncle were very kind to him. I remember when Hermione put two-and-two together that we knew someone in common, I was really happy to hear that Harry had made some good friends at school, and had people to visit with over the holidays. I was so sad to hear he died too, with Tonks and her husband. I don't think Hermione's even grieved for him yet. The whole time I've known her, which admittedly isn't long, she's barely mentioned Harry, but she's always been so sad. Honestly, here today is the happiest I've ever seen that girl."

Sue waved expansively towards the band, but Draco understood what her gesture referred to. Hermione was radiating a healthy, happy glow that overflowed onto everyone around her.

"You know, when I saw her yesterday at the Library, she did look a little peaky. She seems fine today though. Maybe she got a good night of sleep." Draco shrugged, Hermione looked good, there was no doubt about that, but he wasn't interested in giving this woman too much information. She was obviously in match making mode, and Draco didn't want or need extra help in that department.

At least, he hoped he didn't. Hermione and he had too much history for a happy match-maker to just barge in and start pushing them at each other.

Hermione and the rest of her band finished their second instrumental song, and she and Shaun started fiddling with their vocal microphones. Draco sat up, thinking she must be getting ready to sing.

He was right. He watched, fascinated, as she held her violin and bow at her sides, stepped up to the microphone, and opened her pink lips to sing.

_"I wish you out of the woods,_

_And into a picture_

_With me."_

"This is another Nickel Creek song, but it's not part of the set for tomorrow. Renny's son is getting married next weekend, and this is the couple's favorite song." Sue whispered, not wanting to distract Hermione. 'Of course I shouldn't distract Draco either,' she thought to herself. The poor guy was sitting straight up, his cheeks turning pink, and he was staring so hard at Hermione, she was surprised the poor girl didn't burst into flames.

_"If this is going round, round,_

_In my head. _

_I might as well be dreaming,_

_Round, round, in my head."_

Every single one of Draco's nerve endings tingled to life as the music poured out of Hermione. Her high, sweet, husky voice pulled at his imagination and lapped across every erogenous zone of his body. He could barely maintain a somewhat casual pose in this, the single most erotic moment of his life. Hermione's back arched and her body swayed as she balanced between playing her violin, slowly and softly, and singing, with so much ardent affection he begged God right then and there to just, please, make Hermione look at him so he could see the love in her eyes that he felt in her voice.

Hermione's gaze strayed over to Draco as she sang the love song they'd been practicing for next weekend's wedding.

_"It's all enchanted and wild,_

_It's just like my heart said it was gonna be."_

His hot stare washed over her like a blanket of lust and fire, burning her on the spot. No man had ever looked at her like that before. 'Holy cow… CONCENTRATE Hermione…' She scolded herself as she almost got tongue-tied as she nearly drowned in his heated gaze. She closed her eyes, tight, and focused on melding her voice with Shaun's in the last chorus of the song, and thankfully, ended it before her knickers caught on fire.

Draco's face was flushed bright pink by the end of the song, and when Hermione finally closed her eyes, he took that opportunity to focus on the very interesting pattern of brown and white berber on the floor in front of him. He mentally forced himself to relax before he went completely wild and jumped her on the stage, right in front of her band mates and God.

He heard the band start up another song, _Amazing Grace _according to Sue, in which Hermione only sang in the background for Shaun and Renny. Then the two men sang I_'ll Fly Away, _ in which Hermione only played her violin.

It was during this song that Draco decided the thing to do was read a book. He needed to think about and look at something besides the talented and tantalizing woman that was rapidly stripping away all of the stoicism and self-control he'd spent his entire life honing. Dipping his hand into her day-bag, he had to pull out her long-sleeve t-shirt, and held it up to see under it to the recesses of her bag.

The shirt smelled like her.

'God help me,' he thought, this was definitely getting uncomfortable in the pants department. He disguised his shifting of parts by leaning around her day-bag to set her shirt on the pew next to it, and then pulled the bag up onto his lap to disguise his crotch. Draco pulled out a large notebook, a small journal, a packet of sheet music, and, 'Score!'

One green paperback book with the picture of a bird on the front. _The Song of the Dodo _ by David Quammen. Draco vaguely thought this was the book she was reading yesterday, and from the dog-eared pages it appeared that she was more than halfway through with it. 'Island Biogeography in an Age of Extinction'. Well that sounded promising. Muggle science was so entirely different from Wizarding Scientific and Magical Theory that it was almost like reading science fiction after reading nothing but dry statistics for weeks on end.

He turned to the first page, resolutely settling down in his seat after setting her day-bag to his side, and tried to focus on the words.

Hermione and her band mates decided to run through all of their Sunday set in one go, so they repeated _Amazing Grace _ and _I'll Fly Away, _ but Hermione argued that if they played _The House of Tom Bombadil _ again, her hands would be too sore to continue.

"We're spot on anyway, guys. If you all don't mind, can we take a break? I'm overheating over here. I've got to move out of the sun!"

Hermione was relieved when the guys agreed with her, and looked down at Draco to see how he was faring. He had his head buried in her book.

'Lord Almighty, if there isn't anything in the world that turns me on more than the sight of a hot guy reading MY book!' Hermione was nearly drooling when she caught Sue's eye. Sue was smirking at her like the cat that caught the canary. Hermione groaned inwardly. Sue had been trying to find her a man since they'd met, and apparently she'd found her guy.

To Be Continued


	8. Chapter 8 A First Time for Everything

**Author's Note: I own no person, no place, no thing – except my plot! If you recognize it, it probably belongs to Ms. Rowling or some other awesome super-human. **

Chapter 08 There's a First Time for Everything

"So, what's for lunch?" Hermione had packed her things and had just finished her goodbyes and plan-making for the next weekend with her band mates. She'd also received the mental message from Sue that THEY WOULD TALK later. She sighed to herself. That should be a completely fun – and by fun she meant ABSOLUTELY NOT FUN – conversation. Hermione pulled her long-sleeves back on and pulled her gig-bag over her shoulder, then looked up at Draco expectantly.

He, in return, was frowning down at her. He looked like a man with an awful lot on his mind. He hadn't taken his reading glasses off yet, so he looked like a very young, very grim, very sexy Professor. Hermione couldn't help but smile.

She liked those glasses.

When Hermione smiled, Draco's brain started working again, clearing out all the clouds and bees buzzing in his mind and giving him a chance to formulate a response that didn't sound like 'you woman, me man, grunt grunt grunt…'.

Unfortunately the only response that he could think of "I have no idea," didn't feel a lot more intelligent. But he said it anyway, before the grunting could start.

"Well, if you want, we could go to the Deli across the way, grab some sandwiches and take them to the Park? It's a really nice day, probably one of the last one's we'll have before winter sets in." Hermione looked hopefully up at him.

"Uh, sure. You know, I haven't actually spent any time at the Park in the entire time I've lived here. Well, outside of looking at it from my living room windows, that is. There's a trail that goes right past my building that I see people running on all the time."

Draco held out his hand to Hermione, and she beamed at him as she accepted it. Draco laughed.

"You are such a child, Granger. I can't believe you actually have to hold hands to go anywhere. I think I will call you Little Girl for the rest of your life."

"For the rest of my life? That could be an awfully long time, you know. What about when we're old and gray and hunched over? I won't be holding your hand then, I'll be holding on to my walker." Hermione mimicked a creepy old hag pushing her walker down the sidewalk.

"Obviously if you become a creepy old hag, I will change your name to Creepy Old Hag."

"What if I get big and fat?"

"Well, then I'll just make fun of you."

"Hey! You shouldn't make fun of fat people! What if I'm fat because of a horrible illness or even a difficult pregnancy? It happens all the time!"

"All right, fine Little Girl. If you get fat because of a horrible illness or for in an ill begotton breeding experiment gone wrong, I will not make fun of you. But if you randomly pass me on the scale because you lay around eating pork sandwiches and chips all day, then I'm fully within my rights as your friend to pass judgement in the form of ridicule. Then, and only then, I will re-name you Porkette."

"An ill begotten breeding experiment? Couldn't I just have regular children? Why does it have to be experimental breeding?"

Hermione and Draco stood side by side in the Deli, picking out their sandwiches. After they ordered, Draco led her to a bench to wait for their meal.

"Well, in your quest for World Domination through braininess, you'd obviously be involved in developing a breed of super-genius children that would end up with you carrying malformed fetuses with giant heads and an overwhelming need for donuts, thus spurring you to eat your weight in pastries on a daily basis. Your freak children would be born walking and talking, and within six months after their birth – which results in your death of course, that's what you get for tampering with nature – Granger's Demon Offspring will- mmmpmmhhhmph."

Hermione clamped her hand over Draco's mouth. She was giggling at the imagery, but had no desire to let him go any further.

"Draco, have you been reading science fiction?" she asked with mock-solemnity. He nodded his head enthusiastically.

"Well as much as I appreciate how much thought you've given to my hubris and ultimate downfall, I regret to inform you that if I have children at all, they will be normal ones. No experimentation. I wouldn't want my kids to grow up to be treated like freaks like I…"

Hermione's eyes got a kind of far-away look to them. Draco's heart thumped. He hadn't really thought about Hermione as a young child before. Had she been treated like a freak? He'd started manifesting his magic by his fifth birthday, but in his family's household, that was normal and welcome. As a Muggle-born, what had Hermione's parents thought and felt when her magic manifested? What about her friends? Draco moved forward in time to the first time he saw her, eleven years old with her mad hair and manic energy. Well. He'd certainly treated her like a freak for years. An unwanted abomination. And now here she was, his only friend. Instinctively his arms came up around her and pulled her into a hug. Then he started slobbering into her hand, which was still clamped over his mouth.

"Ew! Gross, Draco!" Hermione was giggling again, and she dramatically wiped her palm across the front of his shirt.

"You are not a freak, Little Girl." Draco said in his most serious voice. "However, I will revoke that statement as soon as I hear of your involvement in any experimental breeding." He shook a finger in front of her face. "Make sure it doesn't happen!"

"You utter goof, that was disgusting. I promise not to breed mutants if you promise to never slobber on me again!"

"I will make no such promise! I use my saliva to mark my territory. Your hand now belongs to me, especially since I have to hold onto it so much. I spit on it to keep your girl cooties from attacking me."

"Girl cooties indeed! Well then, I don't promise not to breed mutants, you Saint Bernard."

"You may not call me Bernie, if that's what you were about to ask. My name is Lord Malfoy to you, Little Girl. You may address me as Milord, or Oh Great Lord Malfoy, or Oh High Lord Draco of Amazing Awesomeness… yes, any of these will do."

Hermione laughed and rested her head against his arm as they stood to retrieve their food to take to the Park. She liked his goofy banter. She liked his attention and affection. She especially liked how he double-layered his sentiments and apologies. She'd noticed on several occasions so far that he'd been speaking about more than what they were currently discussing. When Draco had thanked her yesterday in his flat, she'd blown off his attempt to further explain himself, because she wasn't sure if she was ready to talk about their childhood animosity yet. She didn't want to associate this Draco with that one. Not until she was sure he was well and truly capable of being her friend now. God knew she desperately needed one. But, after their dinner last night, and even more so after spending this morning with him, Hermione felt sure that Draco was more than just a kindred spirit.

At least, Muggle Draco was to Muggle Hermione. Wizard Draco and Witch Hermione had been like oil and water, they didn't blend well, even when they were on the same team. But here, as regular people, they were more like… Water and water? Or oil and oil?

Sprawling on the grass on a particularly sunny spot of the Park that sloped gently down towards the children's playground, Draco set about opening their packets of food as Hermione set aside her gig-bag and opened up her day-bag to retrieve her bottle of anti-inflammatories and her lotion. She uncapped her water and popped two pills in her mouth, then she pushed up her long-sleeves and got started with her hand lotion.

Draco watched the way she was rubbing down her arms and across her fingers, and realized she was massaging the soreness out of her hands.

"You're sore? Is that normal?" He asked.

"It is for me, lately. I've been practicing so much, and my body's just not used to it yet. But if I take some anti-inflammatories and massage my hands, it speeds my recovery." Hermione shrugged to make her statement as casual as possible. He didn't need to know that if she didn't go through her ritual, she wouldn't be able to lift her hairbrush tomorrow, let alone play in church.

Draco saw an opportunity to touch her again, and naturally had to take it. He took one of her hands in both of his, and started massaging it properly, flexing through her fingers and pulling them outwards to stretch the joints. They were already popping and creaking, giving audible proof that she was already swelling up.

"I'll take care of this, since it will be more effective if you just relax." He rolled her wrist back and forth, enjoying the slide and pull of his fingers around hers.

Hermione moaned and her eyes fluttered closed. "Oh, Draco that feels wonderful. Where did you learn to do this?"

Draco ignored the twitching in his lower region as she moaned his name – Merlin alive, that was so fucking sexy – and reached over to take her other hand.

"How quickly you forget." He said mock-seriously.

Hermione opened her eyes and tilted her head, looking at him inquisitively. He pointed back to himself with their joined hands.

"Pampered Prince." He said, totally straight-faced. "I got manicures and pedicures twice a month whether I wanted them or not."

Hermione burst out laughing. She laughed so hard she had to pull her hands away from him as she rolled backwards on the grass.

"It wasn't that funny, Granger," he said sardonically.

"I'm sorry Draco, I just got a visual…" She broke off into giggles.

"No need to share. I don't want to know." Draco held his hands up in self-defense.

"I just, ah – I never noticed you popping into the salon while we were on the run during the War – whooo – " Hermione broke off as she thought of Draco standing in a nail salon, tall and grim and dressed in head-to-toe black, perusing the nail polish selection before selecting a delicate pink…

"Whatever you are thinking never happened, so kindly wipe that grin off your face or I won't finish your rub-down," Draco growled in mock-anger. He was honestly getting a kick out of her helpless laughter. She had her head thrown back, exposing her lovely throat and making her chest heave invitingly. As she settled down, he took up her hands again and continued her massage.

Hermione sighed in contentment.

"You know, I think I've laughed more in the last twenty-four hours than I have since we were in school. You brought me coffee, and now here you are rubbing the misery out of my hands. Wow, Draco, I think this might be the beginning of a very beautiful friendship." She smiled as she closed her eyes, enjoying the pulling and kneading of her joints.

"That sounds awfully one-sided, you know. I believe I remember hearing you mention yesterday something about teaching me how to cook? Seems like a fair compromise. Coffee and massages in exchange for cooking lessons." Draco finished rubbing in the last of her lotion, and then dropped her hands to retrieve her sandwich for her.

"You're right, you know. I have most definitely laughed more in the past twenty-four hours than I have since we were in school. You know, I'm really happy that of all the people we went to school with, it was you that popped up out here in my new life," Draco said as he opened his own sandwich and looked over at his smiling companion. She was blushing!

"Thank you, Draco. That's really nice of you to say," Hermione said.

"Well, it's the truth, and I'm not just talking about the Advanced Muggle Studies, although that is definitely a perk. Seriously though, if instead of you, I found myself living in the same town as, say… Lavender Brown or one of the Patil girls…" He shuddered dramatically and Hermione rolled her eyes as he continued.

"Let's just say that I'd be writing Mafalda to request a change of address as soon as possible."

Hermione giggled. "Well obviously you never would have met one of them, because they would never have stepped foot in the Library. What about a guy then? Ernie Macmillan?"

Draco frowned and squinted, trying to place the name as he chewed.

"Hufflepuff, our year, big pompous windbag of a boy." Hermione jogged his memory. Draco gagged slightly, then cleared his throat and shook his head.

"Gods, no. I couldn't stand that guy. It's funny, I always thought his name was Smarmy Macpuffin. Hmm, can't imagine why…" Draco stroked his chin thoughtfully as Hermione laughed.

"Honestly though, that would be almost as bad as if the Weasel moved to town…" Draco drifted off as he saw Hermione's face cloud up.

"Oh, hey, no offense Hermione. The Weasel's just one of those people in my life that I have never and will never get on with. I'm not making fun of him or anything." He reached over and grasped her hands in his own.

"Hey, are you all right?" Draco asked.

Hermione closed her eyes for a moment and bowed her head, as if in prayer. Then she lifted it and looked up at him.

"I'm hiding from him," she said.

"WHAT?"

"I'm hiding from him. From Ronald. He thinks I'm in Australia, or at least, that's what information I left him before I left London last month." Hermione looked at Draco's shocked face, and made a decision. Hermione wanted Draco as a friend. She knew his presence could fill the void in her life that had opened up when Harry died, the war ended, and her relationship with Ron fell apart. And of course, the biggest void of all that came from nearly destroying her own parents. Everything she knew and cherished about the magical world was stained with her losses and her guilt. Finding Draco out here in the Muggle world, with his magic and his arrogance stripped away… well, it was like God was throwing her a lifeline. A compromise for the sake of her happiness and sanity. With Draco, she wouldn't have to drown in her secrets. For Godric's sake, she'd just stumbled into him twenty-four hours ago, and here she was, already able to envision a whole new future. Not just existing and hiding from censure and celebrity, but a real future and a real life.

Hermione tugged her hands away from Draco and hugged her knees to her chest.

"Look," she said.

Draco raised an eyebrow. She'd been sitting there thinking for a good two minutes, completely zoned out as she weighed out her decision. Draco was getting damned uncomfortable. He hadn't meant to insult her. Hell, he wasn't even all together sure he had. So he watched, and waited.

Hermione sighed and said, "Draco, I had planned to spend the rest of my life, or at least the foreseeable future, making up for my mistakes and trying to live as peacefully and quietly as possible. I moved to this town because I wanted to remain somewhat close to Harry, to hold onto his memory. I gave up my magic because I don't want it anymore. I've done too much damage, and the War was too hard on me, for me to want to wield that kind of power in any capacity. So, I'm here, in Little Whinging, because I want to be here. I wanted to partition myself away from the world, so I could heal and work out everything in my head without interference from everyone. The Ministry was very aggressive about wanting Ronald and I to stand in as honorary Aurors, playing puppets for a group whose specific purpose would be to round up rogue Death Eaters and stand in for photo-opportunities with The Daily Prophet. And Ronald wanted that, he loved the limelight! But Ronald and I, we were not compatible, and our friendship barely survived losing Harry. Leaving the Wizarding Community was my ideal method for protecting myself from him and from further Ministry or celebrity meddling. So, that's why I'm really here. I'm hiding from the Weasley's and from the Ministry, in a nutshell. Mafalda knows I'm here, and now you do too. The rest of the world thinks I've moved to Sydney to finish school and live with my parents." Hermione sighed, and picked at a loose thread on the hem of her jeans.

"You mean like only you and Mafalda know I'm here, and the rest of the world thinks I'm in Europe finishing my schooling and living off my parents' money?" Draco quipped.

Hermione smiled.

"Exactly. But Draco, I am so happy that I ran into you yesterday. I have spent the past month in almost total silence, aside from my music. Really, it was starting to get pretty dim, and Sue's been pressuring me to 'get out there' and meet people, but I'm not ready to pretend to be a regular person for the whole world yet. I'm still a little messed up, and I have so many secrets to keep. It's not normal for me to be silent for extended periods of time. I don't know how well you remember from school, but I'm a talkative person by nature." Hermione grinned up at him innocently, so he tweaked her nose.

"Yes, I remember school. I assume you're referring to your propensity to always shout out answers to questions or solve the world's problems from your seat in the Great Hall." Draco smirked at her.

"Oh ha ha, Captain Sarcasm." Hermione shifted to cross her legs, and noticed that she had her hands in Draco's again.

"As much as everyone called me a know-it-all, that wasn't the reason why I was always talking in class. I went to a progressive primary school before Hogwarts, and the lessons were conducted in a conversational format. The students were encouraged to engage in conversation with the teachers about the subject matter, which in turn increased the ability of the students to retain the subject. It's a more intuitive learning process, and it was hard for me to adjust to just sitting quietly in class at Hogwarts, taking notes and not speaking." Hermione broke off on her little education lesson to Draco.

"Crap, I'm getting off subject! Sorry. Okay, case in point, I am a talkative person."

Draco chuckled. "Yes, yes you are, Ms. Granger."

"Right, so anyway, Ron and Harry bore the brunt of my talkativeness because I also helped them with their homework, and despite their protests, I employed the conversational teaching method on them while I helped." Hermione shrugged. "They learned. They didn't like it, but they kept decent enough grades because of it. I'm actually fairly proud of that."

The expression on Draco's face told her she needed to get back to her original point, or she was going to lose him entirely.

"Okay, so I'm a talkative person. And I've got all this history and life experience from the Wizarding world that I no longer live in. I can't talk about things with people out here. There's the International Statute of Secrecy for a reason. I can't even see a therapist or a grief counselor to talk about Harry, I'd get locked away in a psych ward for sure. So, back to you. That's why I'm so glad to have found you, Draco."

Draco was confused. She wanted him to… what? Listen to her problems? Like a Mental Health Healer? Apparently his confusion was showing on his face.

"Oh, I don't mean I want you to play therapist or anything. It's just, Merlin, Draco, isn't it nice to have someone to talk to out here that you don't have to keep ALL of your secrets from? That's why I'm so, so damned thrilled you're here. We know each other, and childhood rivals or not, we get along now. And if you stick around long enough, you're going to find out a lot more about me than you may have ever wanted to know." Here Hermione blushed.

"Anyway, I just wanted you to know ahead of time what you're getting into. I'm not in horrible shape, but I'm pretty messed up and I have a lot of stuff in my life I'm trying to work out. But as friends, you should know that you can share everything with me, because I know I'll end up sharing everything with you. It's my nature, I guess."

Draco looked down at their hands clasped together. It felt perfectly natural. They'd shifted so close together that their knees were touching.

"Well Hermione, I don't think I'd make a very good therapist. I'm a pretty messed up person myself. But you're right, it's good to know we can talk to each other about our real lives and not have to keep secrets. Lately, I don't have much to talk about, outside of my incredible lack of knowledge about how to live properly in the Muggle world. I've had my arse handed to me so many times in past few months, I don't have a lot of room left for pride or stoicism. I just want… well, I guess, I just want you." Draco couldn't help it, he blushed bright pink saying that, and hurried forward before she could chime in.

"I'm not saying I WANT YOU, as in, I'm going to pounce on you or anything. What I mean, I guess, is that meeting you here out in the Muggle world, and being with you in it this short amount of time, well it's been brilliant. I think having you as a companion, a friend, or whatever, is going to make all the difference in my ability to make it through the next five bloody years. I want you in my life, Hermione Granger. I don't have anywhere else to be. I am at your disposal." Draco smiled at her, genuinely, warmly, and sheepishly.

Draco walked Hermione back home as the sun was setting that evening. They'd spent the afternoon in the Park, walking, laying in the sun on the warm grass, and people watching. Always touching or holding hands – to Hermione's joy and Draco's amusement, and always talking. They talked about everything and nothing. They talked about the people around them, about how mobile phone technology worked, about what kind of motorcycles Draco had been admiring, what it meant to be an independent adult now, about Muggle religion and it's strange lack in the Wizarding World, and what kinds of cars Hermione was considering purchasing. The only things they didn't talk about were their parents, Harry Potter, and the simmering, building sexual tension that was creeping over them.

"Draco?"

"Hmm?"

"If you'd like to come to church with me in the morning, I'll be leaving here at 8:45." Hermione shrugged one shoulder, eyeing him challengingly.

"Unless you're scared of the Muggle God, of course…" she said. She leaned against the entrance door to her flat to extract her keys from her day-bag as Draco hailed a passing cab.

Draco snorted as he waved the cab over.

"Hermione, I think if God wanted to strike me down, He's had enormous opportunity to do so in the past few months. Hell, the past few years. You, my dear, will see me in the morning. I want to see you play and sing again, I want to watch you do that funny warm-up walk again, and I have to admit, I'm curious to see the whole Sunday Church In Progress thing." Then, because he couldn't resist it, he boldly kissed her on the cheek before he walked to the cab.

"I'll even bring coffee. See you in the morning, Ms. Granger."

And with that, Draco was gone.

Hermione groaned, letting her head fall backward as she stared at the clouds. What a day! What an adventure she had just started! A smile broke out on her face, so wide it hurt her skin as she cupped her cheek. She started laughing, then she did a little happy dance right there on the sidewalk as cars and pedestrians passed by, on their way in search of home and supper, entertainment and companionship on a Saturday evening in Little Whinging.

/…../

_Dear Mafalda,_

_I think this is the first time I've actually sat down to write to you that I've actually had something I actually gave a shit about to mention. No new accidents in the past few weeks, I'm happy to report. Well there was the time last week when I ran into that wall, but that was just absent-mindedness. I keep forgetting that shit won't just jump out of my way. Surprisingly enough, I met someone who has the same problem. Hermione Granger popped into MY Library yesterday. I don't know if this was deliberate or not, if you had some kind of grand specific therapy-immersion plan involving her or not, but I will say this:_

_THANK YOU. _

_Hermione's offered to help me learn how to use the machinery of my flat, and is even making me notes for how to use the laundry and kitchen appliances. She gave me a lesson in chemicals for cleaning, and I just finished vacuuming my carpets. At dinner, she hypothesized the reason I was mugged last month is because my attackers were after the money they saw in my wallet. Besides the fact that I COULD HAVE DIED, it's nice to know that there wasn't some darker reason for the attack. _

_I also learned that I'm currently living in the town where Potter grew up. Don't tell me you didn't know, because in retrospect I'm sure that this too, is some part of your grand Muggle-immersion-empathy plan for yours truly. Merlin, I wish I'd known this information before. I don't know that it would have made a difference in whether I'd have wished to settle here or not, but it was a bit of a surprise this morning when Hermione's friend Sue asked if I knew Harry Potter. And no, she's not a witch, she grew up down the street from Potter. That was bloody unexpected. So, again, a warning would have been optimal. It was a bit of a struggle to come up with a story for that kind of situation with no notice. _

_Hermione took me to her church band practice this morning. She also invited me to go with her to her church tomorrow morning, partly to watch her play – she plays the violin and sings, it's completely fascinating seeing this side of her – and partly to witness this different side of Muggle culture. Religion, faith, God, it's not something that my parents ever discussed with me, since everyone knows Malfoy's make their own destiny and are the masters of the universe… I hope you can hear my sarcasm…. _

Draco scratched the side of his head absently with his pen. This letter he was writing would be his first letter to Mafalda that contained any sort of personal information outside of accident reports, employment updates, hospital paperwork and requests for assistance. She'd never responded to the requests for assistance, but Mafalda had always appreciated that he was having a difficult go out here, had encouraged him to make friends to ease his loneliness and alienation, and had sympathized over his myriad injuries. She was a good pen pal in that sense, in that she addressed the issues he put forth in his writings. But Mafalda never gave much away about herself or what was going on in the Wizarding World, so in another sense his correspondence really was more like reporting to a parole officer – albeit a very sympathetic and kindly one, but still it wasn't true companionship.

Companionship.

Hmm…

Draco couldn't quite wrap his head around the last twenty-four hours. Seeing Hermione singing and playing her violin this morning had set his awakening interest in her on fire, and spending the entire afternoon talking to her and touching her constantly had only fueled his interest into a full-blown infatuation. He wanted her, and he was completely focused on keeping her for as long as humanly possible. Part of it was his desperate loneliness, and Draco wasn't quite sure yet how big a part of his attraction to Hermione was because of that, but the other part, which right here and now felt like the larger part, was drawn to her because she was so bloody AMAZING.

Draco sighed. That was not something he wanted to put in his letter to Mafalda. While he didn't know what was going on entirely with Hermione, he'd at least been able to determine that Mafalda was in contact with her as well, and had helped her in her decision to settle here in Little Whinging. Freaking Potter's Hometown. How utterly fucking bizarre. From what Sue had said, Potter's life here wasn't a pleasant one, and hearing her simple statements about Potter's crap family life growing up, Draco couldn't help but feel sorry for The Boy Who Got To Kill Himself For The Greater Good. He had a crap life and a crap death, poor sod. And here Draco was now, landed in the middle of Saint Potter's hometown, dancing on the edges of what looked like a mind-blowing, life altering… _something_ with Potter's best gal pal, and wondering for the first time in the three miserable months he'd been living in Little Whinging, if this forced move actually would be a positive experience for him.

A positive experience that had included church in the morning. With Hermione, her violin, and her Muggle God.

It should be interesting.

To Be Continued


	9. Chapter 9 Sunday

**Author's Note: I own no person, no place, no thing – except the plot! If you recognize it, it probably belongs to Ms. Rowling or some other awesome super-human. **

**Chapter 9 Sunday**

Hermione barely slept at all that night, but not for the usual reasons. Thoughts of Draco circled incessantly through her mind. She couldn't get the images to leave her alone! Draco watching her on the stage with lust in his eyes. Draco laying in the grass, talking about motorcycles and gesturing with his hands. Draco walking her home and kissing her on the cheek. Draco, Draco, Draco, Draco.

At 8:30 her door buzzed, fifteen minutes earlier than they had planned on meeting. She was a little embarrassed to admit that she was already downstairs waiting for him. Of course he hadn't been able to see through the door that she was already in her downstairs entryway, checking her reflection in her pocket mirror, pacing back and forth, and trying to calm herself down by reminding herself that he was just a friend.

"A good friend, maybe even a new lifelong best friend, but that's it. Nothing to get worked up over. Just relax, Hermione," she chanted quietly to herself as she paced. When the door buzzer went off (right next to her head, bugger that thing was loud!) she just played it off like she'd just been bringing her bags downstairs, and happily accepted her coffee.

"So, are you ready for this?" Hermione asked as Draco took her day-bag from her just like the morning before.

"I think so. I guess there's no way for someone like me to really prepare, you know? I thought about swinging by the Library to read up on the subject, but I didn't figure I'd have time to read the entire Christian Bible and still get a decent night's sleep."

"No, that probably wouldn't be possible. I don't think even I could do that, and I am a professional."

"A professional what, Little Girl? Insomniac Speed-Reading Wunderkid?" Draco teased as he playfully swung their joined hands back and forth.

"Precisely!" she cried. "Draco Malfoy, you have figured out all my secrets, haven't you?"

"I don't know, have I?" Draco was startled, then realized she was grinning at him. He rolled his eyes, then, to wipe the grin off her face, he tugged her into him and kissed her on the top of her head.

Mission accomplished: Hermione blushed and almost tripped over her own feet. Draco laughed out loud and pulled her upright, then oh, so casually slung his arm across her shoulders as they approached the church.

"You really are a twitchy little thing, aren't you?" He said. This earned him a poke in the ribs, but she didn't say anything.

In truth, Hermione couldn't have said anything if her life depended on it. All of her advice to herself earlier had fizzled away when she'd felt him kiss her hair, and her entire body was buzzing with joy at his arm around her shoulders. He'd tucked her into his side in such a way that it was perfectly natural feeling to wrap her free arm around his waist. Hermione kept her head slightly down so he couldn't see the enormous grin spread across her face.

Of course this would be the time that Sue and her family would pull up next to them in their car.

"Good morning, you two!" Sue called gaily as she opened her car door and set about releasing her children upon the world. Hermione and Draco called out a simultaneous "Good morning!", and then braced themselves for the tiny blonde assault team that ran at them.

Ellie grabbed Hermione's legs in a hug, and Draco was shocked and touched when Rosie did the same thing to him. The charming little buggers were wearing matching gingham dresses, Ellie in light green and Rosie in light blue, and each girl had on a pair of brand new sparkly pink dress slippers. Hermione knelt down and exclaimed over their new shoes as their parents joined the group.

"Good morning there, Draco, Hermione," Shaun said as he shook Draco's now free hand, then ruffled Hermione's hair.

"Shaun! Cut it out you git!" Hermione scolded as she stood and tried to smooth down the mess he'd made. She smiled down at Draco, who was now kneeling and admiring Ellie and Rosie's new shoes, when she was suddenly grabbed from behind.

She felt herself get spun around in a circle by a pair of large and uncomfortably tight arms braced painfully under her ribs, her violin shifting and nearly falling off her arm to the ground, and then she was set back on her feet by a laughing Sutton. Laughing Sutton, who didn't notice that the object of his affection had become completely stiff and stark white with shock and rage, and who also failed to see that his other band mates were looking at him disapprovingly.

Draco slowly rose back to his full height, taking in Hermione's shaking white rage and Sue, Shaun, and now Renny's frowns. Knowing he needed to be careful in this situation not to undermine Hermione's ability to take care of herself, but needing to let everyone, ESPECIALLY SUTTON, know loud and clear that Hermione was not available to manhandle, Draco slowly held his hand out to her. She didn't hesitate at all to fly to his side.

"Are you all right?" he whispered into her hair. She was still shaking. She nodded her head, and he wrapped his arm around her, gig-bag and all. Before Draco had a chance to do more than glance away from Hermione, Sue had already started screeching at Sutton about his lack of manners and tact.

Sutton's great big smile only dropped slightly as he looked at the girl he'd just grabbed. He barely noticed the geeky blond bloke she was shuddering against. In his arrogance, Sutton had already sized Draco up, from glasses to pullover vest, from the breadth of his shoulders to his aristocratic accent, and decided that the blond was not in the least bit a threat to him.

Draco, on the other hand, was sizing up Sutton and deciding just how easily he could dispatch the wanker with his bare hands. The easiest bet would really be to grab the ponce by his ridiculous ponytail and let Hermione have a go at him. They'd tag-teamed pureblood Death Eaters in the same manner many times. Not a single one had walked away.

"Sorry there, 'Mione. I didn't mean to frighten you," Sutton grinned in what he thought was a winning manner. Poor girl was skittish, that was all. She needed a real man in her life to protect her. A man like himself, to be sure.

Hermione's spine stiffened, and Draco dropped his arm as she turned to fully face her band mate.

"Mr. Sutton, please do not touch me again, and please do not call me 'Mione. My name is Hermione, and I do not like to be grabbed," she said quietly and sternly. Draco heard the implied threat in her tone, but Sutton didn't take the hint. He just winked at her and said, "No problem, 'Mione."

The bass player turned to walk up the steps of the church with his heavy instrument. Once his back was turned, Draco leaned down and whispered in her ear.

"I'll get the ponytail and let you at him, yeh? For old times sake?" Hermione giggled and turned to give Draco a hug. As she wrapped her arms around his torso, she whispered in his ear, "Absolutely."

/…../

Draco found himself seated once again next to Sue in the front row off to the right, but this time with no Fairy Girls to entertain them. Ellie and Rosie were down in the children's area, Sue explained. They needed to learn about God in a child's learning environment, not an adult one.

"I'd rather they grow up to love God, not be bored to death by Him," Sue said happily. They were watching Shaun and Hermione and the others get set up again, just like yesterday morning. The service wouldn't start for another thirty minutes.

Suddenly Sue jumped up and waved at a young man and woman striding up the center aisle, calling good morning and reaching out to hug them both. Sue introduced the couple to Draco, who in turn said his good mornings.

"Draco, Michael here is our Pastor, and Gwendolyn oversees the children's Ministry."

Gwendolyn laughed and said, "When I'm not bossing Michael around and finding his missing socks, yes, I help in the children's area. And please, call me Winnie. Everyone else does, especially the children. I haven't met a child yet that doesn't love Winnie the Pooh."

Michael patted his wife's rounded stomach, "Because she's such a tubby little cubby, that is." Gwendolyn turned pink and rounded on her husband as Sue laughed. Draco was troubled by the woman calling herself The Poo, but wasn't concerned about the spousal abuse because the man was obviously patting his beloved wife's pregnant tummy, not making a fat joke.

"Draco here is an old school friend of Hermione's, and has come to hear her play this morning," Sue said helpfully as Draco smiled vaguely at the couple. He didn't really like being called an 'old school friend', he decided. It immediately brought to mind his and Hermione's old animosity, when he would rather spend his free time thinking about how glorious she'd looked yesterday afternoon when she'd leaned down and tickled him with her braid after he'd flopped backwards to lay in the grass. Just for a moment, he'd thought about gathering her in his arms and hauling her on top of him and snogging her senseless, but then the moment passed when a group of laughing children ran past them, chasing a dog with a ball in its mouth.

Draco looked up at the stage, to find Hermione gazing at him. He grinned lazily at her, and she immediately hopped down from the stage to come stand next to him. She touched his arm as she said good morning to the Pastor and his wife. Draco looked down at Hermione, who'd started chatting happily away with Sue and Winnie, and turned his attention to Michael, who seemed to be watching him watch Hermione.

"So, how long have you known our Hermione?" Michael asked in a Man-to-Man voice that Draco immediately understood. This was another Hermione Protector, like Harry had been. Potter had always run interference for her whenever any boys came sniffing around. The only bloke Draco could remember Harry not cock-blocking was the Weasel, and that had apparently turned out abysmally for Hermione.

Draco snaked a protective arm around Hermione's shoulder, which in turn made her immediately turn into him, wrapping her arm around his waist just like she had earlier this morning. Neither looked at each other, they just naturally reached for the other, as if they'd been doing it their whole lives.

"Practically our whole lives. We've known each other since we were eleven, and I only lost track of her earlier this summer when I moved here. And lo and behold, my old friend walks into the Library, and the rest, as they say, is history."

"Draco's a Librarian," Hermione said helpfully. Sue and Winnie giggled, and she blushed.

"Well," Michael said, grinning, "it sounds like you two are the perfect pair then. This is the first morning I've come in here and not seen Hermione with her head stuck in a book until the absolute last second before show-time. And speaking of which, it's time for us to get on with it, yeh?" With that, Michael seemed to give his consent to Draco as he nodded his head at him, and then he pecked his wife on the cheek before he turned and walked to the stage to join Shaun. Winnie said her good-byes to the group as well, and Sue sat down to look for something in her purse.

Hermione turned further into Draco's body and said quietly, "The service will start in a little while. We'll play the same songs we did yesterday, then leave the stage. I'll come sit with you, so save me a seat, okay?"

"Hermione, does the way you're all cuddled up to me have anything to do with Sutton the Slimeball who is currently staring at your backside?" Draco asked in an equally quiet voice.

"How'd you guess?"

"I know all your secrets, remember?" Draco teased. Then, for Sutton's benefit as well as his own, Draco leaned in and kissed her on the cheek before she walked back to the stage. When Sutton had done that to her yesterday, Hermione had been appalled and had swiped the mark off her face. Today, however, she blushed bright red and even giggled a little before she dashed back to her band mates.

Draco groaned inwardly. Either she was an amazing actress or that girl was in as deep as he was. One way or another, he intended to find out before this day was over. Draco turned to sit down next to Sue, leaving a spot for Hermione on his left side. He looked over at Sue and found her beaming at him.

"Something on your mind, Ms. Fraser?" Draco said politely.

"Oh Draco, I just knew it. Oh I'm so happy-" Sue broke off and fanned her eyes.

Draco rolled his eyes. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Sue," he said as evenly as possible as he tried not to smile.

"Don't you lie to me in the House of God, Draco. That girl practically melted into the floor when you kissed her. Don't tell me you don't know what I'm talking about," Sue fussed quietly at him as the band members started their tuning ritual and a few early attendees filtered through the doors.

"We're just letting nature make its own progress, Sue. Naturally. With no outside interference," Draco replied, hoping she'd hear the implied request to not butt in.

"Puh-lease, Draco. You two are made for each other. I don't think it's even possible for you to need LESS help from outside. By all means, carry on with whatever it is you're already doing."

Sue was obviously officially gloating over Hermione's kiss from Draco. Hermione could see it from twenty feet away, and it was apparently obvious to Draco as well. His face was red and he was looking at the floor, but she could see that he was smiling. Oh well, she wouldn't begrudge Sue a little vicarious gloat-time. Honestly, ensnaring the attention of Draco Malfoy was something to gloat over. And as soon as Hermione found herself alone, she intended to do so herself.

/…../

The band started playing when the sanctuary was about fifty percent full. The riotous, joyful sound of Hermione's violin split the air and shocked the parishioners out of their casual conversations. With all attention now on the musicians, the sanctuary filled with enthusiastic clapping and cheering as _The House of Tom Bombadil _spilled out of the instruments and leapt from ear to ear. By the time the song was done, every pew was full.

Draco was prepared this time, not just for the sight of Hermione wrapped up in her music, but for the massive erotic over-stimulation the sight provided. He brought up a series of mental images to keep his libido in check. Millicent Bulstrode in a swimsuit, Longbottom's Snape bogart from Third Year, the scary mole on Professor Sprout's chin. Rosie and Ellie dancing in their princess dresses. Children chasing after a dog in the park, like yesterday when he'd been laying in the grass and a smiling Hermione had leaned in-

'Focus, Malfoy,' he said to himself. Image after image, whether physically repellant or benignly innocent, flipped through his mind as Hermione and her mates finished their set of three songs to tremendous cheers and applause. He joined in with the clapping, but refrained from any shouting or screeching like the people around him. Draco had never in his life been tempted to cheer, it was simply _not done, _but he was overwhelmed by the affection the audience was lavishing on the band. As Hermione placed her violin in its stand and hopped off the stage to sit next to him, Draco smiled. Her face was flushed and she was biting her lip, ostensibly to keep her smile from splitting her face in half. She deserved some positive recognition, and he was thrilled she'd allowed him to share in this event with her.

"That was brilliant," he leaned in and whispered in her ear.

Hermione turned into him, resting her forehead against his shoulder for just a moment, and whispered back, "Thank you," then straightened back up to look at Michael, who'd just arrived on the stage to begin the sermon.

Draco noticed Shaun draping his arm across the back of the pew behind his wife, so he figured it must be allowable to touch one's spouse – not that he considered Hermione his spouse or anything, but he needed to touch her in some way - so he crossed one ankle over his knee and rested his left hand on the back of the pew behind Hermione's shoulder.

He must have done something right, because she immediately scooted closer into him and rested her head against his shoulder, then settled down to listen to Michael speak.

"Well I hope you all enjoyed the music selection today. We settled on the bluegrass theme because I wanted to talk to you all today about farming. Yes, indeed. Where would we be without farming? No farm, no food, right? And we all need food to survive, so by default we all love farming."

There were several claps, chuckles and "amen's" from the audience as Michael went on.

"So here we are in early October, enjoying this fine Fall morning. But what's going on at farms all around us right now? Harvesting! That's right, now is when the Farmer and his family must gather their crops to store and distribute for the Winter season. And what happens if the Farmer dies, or is too lazy to manage his crops and harvest on time? His crops spoil, and suddenly you and I are faced with a Winter with no food. So essentially, unless we want to start farming ourselves, we need to start thanking Farmers ahead of time for the care and time they put in to sowing their crops. All the fertilizing and pest control and watering that has to happen as the crops grow is a labor of time, energy and love that the Farmer must put in well before he gets any chance of reaping the results of his hard work. But when he does reap, oh, the bounty we can receive. And think about this, all of you who aren't Farmers: their hard work enables you to live your life in the way that suits you best. Whether you're a Doctor or a Teacher or a Plumber or a Librarian, the Farmer shares his harvest with you, enabling you to do your own sowing. As a Teacher sows knowledge in her students' minds, and a Doctor sows healing to the sick and the injured, there are in turn students and patients that reap the benefits of the Farmer's well sown crops."

Draco was a little startled when Michael mentioned the Librarian, especially since the man was looking directly at him and Hermione when he said it, but he didn't feel pointed out. He felt, included, Draco guessed that would be the best word. He felt welcomed.

"So, we all reap, and then in turn we all sow. No matter what your career is, you're sowing something in this world. No one would say that a stay-at-home Mum isn't sowing. Your Mother sows behavior and knowledge in you to prepare you for the world when you're at your youngest, just as your Teachers and friends do later. If your Mother sows wickedness and cowardice into your early years, most likely the people around you will reap this wickedness and cowardice as you mature."

Draco obviously found Michael's sermon engaging and easy to follow along with, it was like Life Lessons for Dummies or something, but he liked the personal, far reaching imagery the man was putting forth. As Hermione dug out her Bible and flipped through the onion-skin pages to Ruth, he watched her out of the corner of his eye.

What had their parents sown in them when they were very young? Hermione's parents, wherever they were, had obviously filled her with love and affection. They'd cultivated in her a massive thirst for learning, and encouraged a passion in music. She reaped this upon her friends: her love, her easy affection, and of course her passion for books and learning.

Draco's parents, while educated and powerful, had incidentally sown in him a – what was that word Hermione used yesterday? Hubris. He'd had the deadliest of pride and arrogance sown into his early years. Breaking out of it had taken a massive shock to his system - his forced and half-hearted attempt to murder a good man - to bring him to his knees.

So, Draco figured that in joining the Order and fighting the good fight, he'd sown some good into his own life. Merlin, or God, knew he was reaping his consequences for his previous bad behavior… But then Hermione shifted next to him, resting her right leg against his left, and Draco wondered if maybe he wasn't also reaping a reward for the good he had done.

To Be Continued.


	10. Ch 10 One Good Snog Deserves Another

**Author's Note: I own no person, no place, no thing – except the plot! If you recognize it, it probably belongs to Ms. Rowling or some other awesome super-human. **

**IN RESPONSE TO SOME REVIEWS: Hi Guys, I know this story I'm writing is a somewhat different from typical Dramione, but I want to make sure none of you are getting the wrong impression about it. This isn't a religious story, it's not a sweeping bodice ripper, it's not a comedy either. It's about two displaced people trying to learn how to live a regular life – thus the title. J** **There will be sex and violence and cursing, and God and babies and puppy dogs, and arguments and mistakes and food and work and music and friends. That's why I'm enjoying writing it so much, and hopefully you'll enjoy it too!**

**ajc**

**Chapter 10 One Good Snog Deserves Another**

"Well," Hermione mentally went through the contents of her fridge after they said their goodbyes to the Fraser's, Renny and, less cordially, Sutton. "I have some stuff at home, and you did say you wanted to learn to cook. How about I teach you to make chicken salad?"

Draco raised an eyebrow. Go to her flat and learn how to make chicken salad? All alone in the privacy of her home? Yes, please! Getting Hermione alone in her flat suddenly became his new life goal.

"Unless you have something else to do, I mean, or…" Hermione started rambling, and Draco realized he hadn't responded to her at all.

"That's all right Hermione, chicken salad sounds fine. And no, I don't have anything else to do. Once again, I am at your disposal." Draco's voice lowered as he said those last words, putting as much meaning as he could into them. Wild horses couldn't drag him away from this woman at this point. They had so much unresolved tension between them he didn't think he'd be able to function in society again until they had settled it, one way or another.

When Draco saw her tremble in response to his words, he smiled slowly.

He was definitely in.

He reached out and took her hand, which he knew she would have done already if she hadn't been so gob-smacked by him. Instead of simply holding her hand though, he wound their fingers together, sealing his claim on her. Let that ponce Sutton try to touch her again, Draco dared him. As far as anyone around them needed to know, Hermione was officially HIS, whether she understood that yet or not. Draco tugged her outside into the sunshine and hurried her the short distance to her flat.

Standing at Hermione's flat entry, Draco released her hand and handed her the day-bag. She took it, frowning down at it.

"Keys?" Draco prompted.

Hermione was panting slightly from having hurried over here so quickly. She looked up into Draco's eyes in slight confusion, and saw his burning expression. Her mouth popped open wide as a wave of desire washed over her.

'The hell with this,' Draco thought. He pulled her gig-bag off her shoulder, and placed it and her day-bag on the ground. He placed one hand on her belly, gently pushing her backwards until Hermione had backed into the brick side of her building. Draco cupped her face with his hands and kissed her soundly.

It wasn't a long kiss, but it was an honest, sincere kiss full of curiosity and frustration and lust. She tasted like honey and coffee and the warm Autumn sunshine. Heavenly and delicious and sweet. He opened his eyes as he broke away from her lips, and found her two green eyes, wide as saucers, staring back at him. He sighed, letting go of her, and took a step back to allow her to stand fully upright again. She was still staring at him.

"Um, sorry. Hermione. You're a bit of a force of nature, I just needed to try…" Draco rubbed the back of his neck.

Hermione's face flooded with heat, and she squeaked, then coughed and cleared her throat before saying, "Wow." Then she smiled at him. So Draco smiled back at her, and then he leaned down and kissed her again.

Hermione's heart leapt in her chest. Draco was kissing her! And it felt so good, perfect really, like their lips were designed specifically to fit with each other. She'd never felt anything so… RIGHT… in all her life. Dear God, she was made for kissing Draco Malfoy!

Her arms rose, and her hands smoothed their way up to his shoulders and then inwards to rest under his neck at his collarbones. She felt him shudder a little at her touch, and she flicked her tongue out to lick his lower lip. He tasted so good!

She may have moaned a little, but the next thing she knew for sure was that Draco had broken off the kiss and was staring down at her. His face was a little flushed as he stood there for a moment with his hands on each side of her face, just looking at her. Then he bent down to pick up her day-bag. She watched as he fished out her keys and handed them to her, then he bent down again to pick up her gig-bag.

"We need to go inside," he said quietly.

"Uh huh." Hermione nodded. Then suddenly she became very conscious that she and Draco had been standing on the side of a busy street snogging in the middle of the day for the whole world to see. Yes. Right. Get inside.

She unlocked the deadbolt and the doorknob, then beckoned him in. At the next door she unlocked the second set of locks, and then Draco followed her up the two flights of stairs to her flat. At the top landing, there were two doors, and Hermione turned towards the one on the right with the keypad to the right of the door frame. She punched in a six-digit code as she turned yet another key in this door's deadbolt, then turned to face Draco as she opened her door and backed into her flat.

"Welcome to my Fortress." She said.

Draco was a little shocked at the security measures she'd gone through to protect herself. No wonder she called her flat a Fortress. He hadn't seen any measures of security like this in a Muggle home or business before. What the Hell was she really doing in here? Selling guns and growing cannabis? Hiding dead bodies? He doubted the Weasel, Rita Skeeter or any Death Eater thug had enough Muggle sense to figure out how to break through her locks, and was comforted by the thought. She really was a clever girl, his Hermione.

His. Yes, he needed to work on that right away. Draco knew beyond any doubt that he and Hermione would be good together. Like, really, really good. Maybe even amazing. That kiss downstairs had been everything he'd imagined and more. Hermione's lips had molded perfectly to his. It took no great leap of the imagination to guess the rest of her body would feel the same way.

When he walked through the threshold, he saw a low ceilinged, brick sided, wide open space interspersed with brick columns that must have taken up half the floor of the entire building. There was a sheet-rocked wall off to the left with doors in it that he assumed were bed and bathrooms, and to his right was a lovely, wide, wood and stainless steel kitchen that would have made his family's house-elves squeal with joy. Straight ahead was a wide open area with a sprawling living room centered around a wide fireplace, surrounded on one side by an eating area, and on the other by no less than four massive floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. There were windows ahead of him, and windows to his right, letting in just enough natural light that the space didn't feel gloomy, but not too much to blind him.

Draco looked for a place to put down Hermione's stuff, and noticed some large nails sticking out of the wall to his right. His jacket was hanging there that he'd let Hermione borrow the other night. He hung the gig-bag and her day-bag next to it, but left the jacket hanging. He certainly didn't need it, and rather liked the way it looked there. Like it belonged.

They stood there staring at each other for a few seconds, then Hermione reached for his hand and pulled him towards her couches. He went willingly enough, and sat next to her as he watched her closely to see what would happen next.

"You kissed me," she said suddenly.

"Yes, I did. And I'm not going to apologize for it again, Hermione. I liked it. A lot." Draco turned toward her and laid his arm across the back of the couch.

"About that…" She said hesitantly. Her knee was pressed against the side of his leg. She had just unconsciously moved her legs forward just to get closer to him! 'He's like a freaking magnet,' she thought. "Well, it's given me a lot to think about." Hermione said quietly.

"Like what?" Draco could practically see steam coming out of her ears, the gears in her head were turning so quickly. Gods, did she ever stop thinking?

"Like, I don't know… Can I trust you not to hurt me? Are we going to start dating instead of being friends? Are you going to go all cave-man on me and get jealous of every other man in my life like Shaun and Renny? Will you protect me from Sutton the Slimeball? Do I want you to? Will you go with me to Renny's son's wedding next weekend? And then, is that a date, or are we just friends? What if you meet some other girl? Would that be the end of our friendship too? I just-"

Draco put a hand over her mouth.

"Enough, Hermione. That was entirely too much thinking for five minutes," he commanded. Hermione's eyes widened.

"Come on, Hermione. You're a ridiculously smart and intuitive girl. You know where we're heading with this you-and-me thing. I am absolutely one hundred percent uninterested in playing games with you. So please don't over-think right now. Just relax and be happy, all right? I have no ulterior motives, I also have no desire to hurt you in any capacity. You are my new favorite person in the whole wide world, remember? Yes I will absolutely be stepping in between you and the Slimeball, and no I will not get jealous of your other mates, because I'm not a jealous person by nature. Yes I will go with you to Renny's son's wedding, yes it is most definitely going to be a date, and no it doesn't mean our friendship will end. I like you, Hermione Granger. You might not be able to hex me anymore, but I imagine you're smart enough to figure out a way to kick my arse if I were to start messing around with another girl. Consider me well warned and…. um. Completely infatuated."

Draco had released her mouth and waited. His face felt hot, but he was glad he got all the words out. He was glad, because in that moment, Hermione beamed at him.

"Really?"

"Really." And he beamed right back at her. His right hand was playing the ends of her hair, and she relaxed her head against it. Draco felt her head lean into his hand. He paused in his finger curling through her strands to cup the side of her head, cradling it. She looked him in the eye, and he saw her hesitation, and her desire. Slowly, he raised his other hand and tugged her shoulder to bring her closer to him, as he leaned into her.

"I don't want to mess this up," she whispered.

"Neither do I," he said, and then Hermione felt his lips on hers for the third time that day. She instantly felt the difference. Where earlier she'd felt heat and lust and curiosity, now she felt his lips gentle against hers, seeking warmth, providing comfort, and… companionship? Acceptance? Friendship. His kiss was the kind of kiss shared between two people who were friends and lovers.

In other words, perfect.

When she and Ron had fallen into each other's arms, their friendship had been swept to the side. He'd gone from best friend to boyfriend, and a very jealous one at that. It was like Ron forgot all about who she was in light of what he expected out of a girlfriend. Her independence, her closeness with Harry, her Gryffindor bravery, all served to eat away at his love for her. He twisted everything she said, every action she made, into a direct reflection on him and her love for him. When things got physical between the two of them, it all went downhill. Any fool could see that Hermione and Ron weren't compatible, but it took her months to end it. In the end she knew it was best that she leave the Wizarding world. Staying in the same region with Ron, with the spotlight on them and everyone wanting to raise them up on a public pedestal, was intolerable at the least, soul crushing at the most.

This thing that she was starting with Draco, though, had her soul flying. A true friend, and a sexy as hell one at that… Well, dragging him to the coffee shop Friday afternoon might be one of the smartest moves she'd ever made in her life.

Hermione's stomach growled. She realized that her hands had moved up to his chest, and were creeping up to wrap around his neck, and he was slowly bringing her body into closer contact with his own, his arms wrapping around her waist as his lips and tongue melded with hers. She opened her eyes and saw his deep slate ones looking down at her. She could feel that he was smiling, so she broke away from him, grinning back. Hermione kept her arms wrapped around his neck though. It felt good to be this close to him.

"Hungry?" he whispered.

"A little," she whispered back. Then she crushed her mouth against his as she crawled onto his lap, running her tongue along the edge of his teeth and straining her body as close to him as possible.

Draco's body burst into flames as she settled herself on him. He was shocked by her sudden and obvious enthusiasm. It was almost like she'd just decided she wanted him, wanted this, and was now pouring herself into this inevitable seduction with one hundred percent of her massive arsenal of feminine charm. His wits were rapidly flying out the nearest window when she settled her thighs onto him, just so, and instinctively rocked her hips. He gasped, and grabbed her hips with his hands.

Hermione couldn't believe what she'd just done. There was no doubt in her mind that she and he were both enjoying each other, but she was no slag. She assumed that loneliness and frustration had a lot to do with why she'd just attacked Draco so wantonly. Her body felt super-charged, and so damn tense. She felt like she needed…something. Something to burst all this tension coiled inside her. Rocking her hips had, at the time, seemed like just the thing to get that itch taken care of, but Merlin, how completely loose he must think she was now!

Draco looked at Hermione, who was blushing dark red and attempting to scramble off his lap. He held her waist, and waited until she met his eyes, which she could barely do.

"Hermione, please don't panic. I may be an arse, but I'm not a jerk. I'm not going to push at you for my own nefarious purposes just because of one little hip twitch." Draco kissed her on the forehead, the tip of her nose, and then on her mouth. She relaxed a little, and then she started babbling.

"Draco, I'm… I'm so sorry, I don't know what got into me. I mean, I like you and all, but I'm not, in any way, ever, ever, like…THAT. I just got swept up in the moment and…"

Draco cut her off.

"Never ever?" He said teasingly. She was still straddling his waist, but her legs were incredibly tensed as if she was balancing herself so she wouldn't actually have to touch his lap. He ran his hands up and down her sides. She shivered, but seemed to tense up even more, as if trying to regain her self-control, so he removed his hands from her torso.

"Never ever, really. I don't jump on random guys, I swear." Hermione was so ashamed of herself.

"I wasn't implying that, I know you well enough to know THAT, Little Girl." He took her hands from where they were propped on his chest, clenched in defensive fists. He held her hands in his, against his chest.

"What I meant was, haven't you ever gotten caught up in a moment? Instinct is instinct, Hermione, it's not un-natural or dirty. And I certainly don't think badly of you for it, no matter how much you are obviously beating yourself up." Draco pulled her closer, and let go of her hands to wrap his arms around her.

"Hermione, you and I, we go a long way back, and most of the memories aren't good ones. How we both ended up here, in an entirely different place and state of mind, completely blows me away with its irony and its potential. You are my new very best friend, my guide and confidant in this All-Muggle, All-The-Time lifestyle I'm leading. I absolutely am not going to judge you or do anything that could potentially send you away from me. Besides, I'm the one that kissed you to start with, remember?" He pulled back from her to look in her face again, and noticed that she looked more relaxed.

"Thank you," she whispered. She couldn't believe she was in this position, wrapped around Draco Malfoy of all people in the entire universe, and so damned grateful for his presence she could cry.

"Thank you, Ms. Granger. For finding me, for helping me learn how to take care of myself, and for allowing me to become a part of your new life. Now, damn it woman, enough of this heavy shit. We've been around each other for two days and I swear we've gone through more emotional relationship crap than I ever dealt with in my entire life. Feed me or I will be forced to eat you instead!" He picked her up and set her in front of him.

She grinned at him. "Oh really?" she asked, and then she clapped her hands over her mouth when she realized how completely forward that sounded.

Draco's eyes danced as he watched Hermione flounder around. It was obvious, she wanted him. She couldn't help herself.

"Oh, my little minx, you really don't want to try me," he winked down at her, and then dragged her by the hand towards her kitchen.

"Come on, woman, you promised a cooking lesson and lunch. Now please, stop flirting with me and get in that kitchen!" Draco popped her on the bum as he pushed her forward into her kitchen. She squeaked, and giggled. Gods, she was adorable.

/…../

Three hours, two chicken breasts, an onion, half a cucumber, a generous scoop of mayonnaise and a squick of mustard, a bottle of wine, two apples, and two Radiohead albums later, Hermione and Draco were back on the couch, snogging passionately. He ran his hands up her sides again to feel her shudder beneath his touch, and broke away from her mouth to trail kisses down her jaw and along her neck.

Hermione moaned in sweet agony. This felt so damn good, there was no way she was even thinking about stopping –

He bucked his hips against hers, and she felt, really felt, how interested he was in NOT stopping.

Draco sensed they were moving quickly into out-of-control territory, and as soon as he felt her tense up after his own instinctive hip twitch, he knew it was time to put the brakes on their afternoon together. He kissed her once, twice, and lifted her off of his lap and onto the couch next to him. Her hair was a mess, her face red, her lips swollen, and her eyes were glassy. 'Nice to know I haven't lost my touch, at least.' Draco thought smugly.

Not that being a Sex God was that big of a priority when he was younger, but Draco had run around quite a bit in school. Girls were just so much damn fun that he couldn't help but take what was offered freely, and so abundantly. Of course, sixth year had been a bit more grim, but he'd still managed to keep the female population busy.

The last two and a half years, on the run and fighting for his life to bring down the Dark Lord had certainly curbed his appetite, as well as his available opportunities. Out here in Little Whinging, he had at first been too traumatized and later too determined to maintain his safety and privacy to even consider chasing after any of the pretty Muggle girls who frequented the Library. There was no way he could get involved with a Muggle girl, even for the most casual of sex, because there was no way he could carry on a conversation when his whole history would have to be lies, lies, lies. It would be like dating an alien from outer space, except he'd be the alien. No thank you. A quick wank in the shower every morning kept him from getting too desperate. But Hermione? Well that was entirely different. But he couldn't go diving in, so to speak, because she just wasn't that kind of girl, and that wasn't what kind of relationship he wanted from her anyway. Of course, they'd probably get there pretty soon anyway, but not tonight.

"My dear Ms. Granger, if you don't mind, I think it might be a good idea if I take my leave from you before I end up dragging you to your bedroom and taking advantage of your small and ravishing body." Draco said in his most aristocratic voice possible.

"Oh, my dear Mr. Malfoy, what makes you think you'd have to drag me?" Hermione shot back at him.

Draco's eyes went from slate to black almost instantly, and his hands ached to reach out to her and pull her underneath him. With a groan and a deep shaky breath, he stood up and walked away from the couch to help him reign in his self-control.

Hermione watched him pacing back and forth, hands pressed against his eyeballs as he took deep, calming breaths. This was funny, Draco Malfoy was half-crazed with lust for HER, and was determined, apparently, to regain his composure for the sake of culturing and maintaining a healthy friendship/relationship WITH HER.

"You know, Draco, I really appreciate what you're doing," Hermione said as sincerely as possible.

"I'm going to go home and take a very, very, very cold shower, Ms. Granger. You'd better appreciate this," Draco groaned.

"I do, I really do. As much fun as I was having with you, I don't think I am ready to jump into… well, sex." Hermione blushed when she said 'sex' because it was right then that Draco took his hands away from his face and made eye contact with her. It took every ounce of her willpower not to leap over the couch and wrestle him to the ground. Good Heavens! What was WRONG with her? She'd never gotten this hot and bothered before, not with Ron, nor when she was younger with Viktor.

Draco watched the word 'sex' fall off her pretty, bruised and roughed lips, and almost lost it. He needed to get out of here, now.

"I've got to go, Hermione. I'm sorry, I don't want to mess this up," Draco apologized, and mentally cursed himself for not simply ripping her clothes off and shagging her senseless on the couch, or her kitchen counter, or against one of those brick columns…

"Walk me out?" he said roughly, dragging his hands through his hair and down his face as he paced to the door.

Hermione tripped after him, grabbing her keys off the counter as he tried to open the front door.

"Flip the lock, yes, that one." Hermione explained as he tried to open the unyielding door.

"All the doors automatically lock, so I always have to be sure to carry my keys with me. My biggest fear right now is accidently locking myself out of my flat, and being stuck in the stairwell. Sure, I can get out, but then I'd have to replace all of my locks because the only keys are inside my flat. It's really terribly irresponsible of me to not have copies… Oh, hey I know! I can get copies made and leave them at your flat, that way I can get them if I ever do lose mine or get locked out. Um, would that be OK?" Hermione chattered away as they made their way down the stairs and through the doors to the street.

"Of course, Hermione. You can certainly trust me to not give them out to passing strangers. But are you sure you want me having such free access to your Fortress?" he teased.

"Oh, you wouldn't be able to get in with them, I have a color code system in my head for the all of the keys to the locks, and you don't know the access code to the front door." Hermione smiled smugly.

"Why do you live in a Fortress again?" Draco asked. "Are you sure you're not hiding dead bodies or manufacturing illegal narcotics?"

"Ha ha ha, Draco. You're just jealous you didn't think of this first."

Draco looked up and down the street to see if a cab was available, but not seeing one, turned his attention back to the girl in front of him. She was shivering slightly, it had definitely cooled off in the afternoon. She needed to get back inside, the sun would be setting soon and she didn't have a jacket on.

"So, what are you doing tomorrow?" Hermione shifted on her stocking feet, back and forth, back and forth.

Draco smirked. "My usual. Absolutely nothing. From the time I get off work until the next morning when I go back in to work, for the next five days until the weekend comes around again. At that point I am available twenty-four hours a day. Feel free to join me at any point, if you wish." He pulled her into a quick hug and kissed her forehead. He'd just caught sight of a cab coming around the corner and wanted to wave it down and get home before he gave up and followed her back upstairs.

"Meet me at the Library at five?" he asked as the cab stopped next to them. Hermione nodded and dropped her arms back to her sides. She and Draco grinned goofily at each other for a second, and then the cab pulled away, taking her… best friend? Boyfriend? Taking Draco away from her for the next twenty-four hours.

Draco Malfoy.

'Holy Merlin! Draco fecking Malfoy! The single hottest guy - albeit he'd been a prat then - in our entire school, and he is completely in lust with me!' Hermione crowed to herself in delight. That he had stopped them from going further, despite the fact that it was written all over his face how badly he wanted to get into her knickers, made him more irresistible than she'd thought possible. She could trust him, she could share her life with him, and she was thrilled that he wanted to share his life with her. Hermione giggled and spun in a circle, then noticed the cars driving past and people staring, so she fished her keys out of her pocket and started the process of getting back into her Fortress.

To Be Continued.


	11. Ch 11 Better Living Through Chemistry

**Author's Note: I own no person, no place, no thing – except the plot! If you recognize it, it probably belongs to Ms. Rowling or some other awesome super-human**.

**Chapter 11 Better Living Through Chemistry**

When Draco had gotten home from Hermione's it had only been 4:30. He'd taken a very, very fucking cold shower, found some comfortable jeans and a t-shirt to wear, and set to work on his laundry before his new education left his brain. Now, two hours later, he heard the buzzing sound of his clothes dryer. Draco retrieved the massive load of pants and vests from the dryer and set to folding and hanging. It really was rather thrilling to know he now had free access to nearly instantaneous clean, decent smelling clothing, without the use of magic or outside assistance. Working for the Order for two years meant that Draco had gotten somewhat used to a quick _scourgify_ to keep his clothing clean enough, and of course his life at the Manor or at Hogwarts had never included the handling of his own laundry, or even thoughts of its scent. But this… Draco smelled the trousers he was folding onto a hanger… this scent was similar to the heather meadows in Springtime in the north fields at the Manor. Fresh and somewhat earthy, but lovely.

Draco smirked. He sounded like a laundry soap commercial now. But he had to hand it to the Muggles, they knew how to make clean clothing smell good.

"Better living through chemistry," he remembered Hermione saying that the other night while she was running through the instructions for using his household cleaning products. Having no magic had forced Muggles to find a way to maintain high standards of cleanliness through the research and development of natural and Muggle-made chemical combinations to cleanse, sterilize, mask unpleasant odors and create pleasant scents for the variety of accoutrements that they surrounded themselves with.

Draco had seen this in the hospital. The nurses and doctors were meticulous about their use of gloves and masks, and they were constantly wiping down or throwing away in special containers any objects that came into contact with Draco's body or the surfaces around him. Draco had been highly insulted at first, they were treating him like he had some bloody disease, but then he'd realized that the staff was protecting Draco from disease as much as they were protecting themselves. Without magic, Muggles had to work so much harder to keep sickness and disease from spreading like wildfire through their population, and by God, they seemed to have perfected their methods.

This flew in the face of everything Draco's upbringing had raised him to believe. Muggles were barbarians. Disease carrying, filth spreading, savages who must be kept separate from magical communities so as to not taint the magical population. But in the past three months, between working with, living around, being healed by, and reading about Muggles, the only barbarians he'd encountered had been the men who'd mugged him for his money – and by Hermione's count that had been partially Draco's own fault.

Draco considered what his Father would think about Draco's current thought process. He snorted. Lucius Malfoy would probably _Avada_ his own son, not just for his current thoughts, but for his last two years on the side of the Order, for accepting his punishment and exile instead of paying off the Ministry like any other self-respecting Malfoy would have done, and of course then there was that little Muggle-born girl who lived down the street and liked to hold his hand…

Suddenly Draco was enormously grateful that Hermione had created a Fortress to hide away in. Lucius Malfoy might be spending the rest of his life in Azkaban, but he still wielded enormous influence in the unsavory underground of Wizarding England and a great deal of Europe. Draco considered, for the first time, that he might need to take a cue from Hermione and erect some privacy and security for himself as well.

Maybe he'd talk to her about that tomorrow evening.

/…../

Early the next morning Draco pulled one of his freshly self-laundered pairs of trousers from a hanger, and then stood looking into his closet. Hmm… What did one wear to a Muggle wedding? At the Library he typically wore trousers and an oxford, with the addition of either a tie, jumper or vest. Yesterday morning he'd basically done the same thing when he'd accompanied the lovely and delectable Ms. Granger to church. From the magazines he'd seen in the Library, Muggle weddings seemed to entail the wearing of billowy white gowns and black and white tuxedo suits. But Hermione and Renny had said this was a theme wedding. An outdoor, country wedding theme. What in the world did that even mean? Like cowboys and horses and pistols? Draco couldn't imagine Hermione in a fluffy white gown. Actually, he couldn't imagine her in a dress at all, outside of that luscious periwinkle number she'd worn at the Yule Ball fourth year. Her school uniform skirts were one thing, but he just couldn't imagine Hermione tolerating impractical clothing, even for a formal event like a wedding. But then, cowboy clothes? That was just as unimaginable as the fluffy white stuff.

Well, he'd just have to ask her this afternoon, in case he needed time to produce some kind of costume – or in the worst case scenario, make his excuses and leave the country for the day. Draco had several suits, of course, but it would be rather uncomfortable in this warm autumn weather to wear any of his heavy wool jackets. He frowned, then a smile spread across his face as he imagined Hermione standing in his bedroom, not five feet from his bed, looking through his closet and commanding him to take his current clothes off to try something different on, but then getting totally distracted...

'No, bad Draco! There's time for that later. Friends first, sex second!' Draco gave himself a firm talking to, and several minutes later gave himself a firm handling in the shower, to try and purge some of his re-awakening lust from his body before he went to work.

/…../

It was almost four in the afternoon on Monday, and Hermione had just finished folding her pile of clean socks and underthings, and was about to put everything away in her bureau when she heard a loud buzzing. She walked out of her bedroom and realized the sound was coming from the speaker at her door. Someone was ringing her doorbell! Her heart thumped in her chest. Oh cripes, was it a reporter? A Death Eater? RON? She shivered in horror, dreading what was awaiting her outside. Who had found her? She peeked out the window down onto the street and saw blond hair, almost in a buzz cut.

Draco!

Hermione's heart thumped again in her chest, but this time in anticipation. He was here! She was supposed to meet him at the Library in an hour, but instead he was here! Hermione grabbed her key-ring and dashed down the stairs. By the time she yanked open the front door to the street she was slightly breathless from a combination of anticipation of seeing Draco again and from racing down two flights of stairs in her stocking feet.

He smiled rather ruefully at her as she stepped out to greet him.

"I got out of work early today, there didn't seem to be that much work to do, so I thought I'd come by and save you the trip. I had no idea how to contact you to let you know, which begs the question: how do I contact you? Which in turn leads me to a series of questions. Like how do I get a telephone? Do you have one? What are the pro's and con's of a household phone versus a mobile phone? What does one wear to a Muggle wedding? Will you give me your telephone number so I can call you and tell you when I'm getting out of work early? Do you realize that I just took a cab ride over here to ask you what I'm supposed to wear to a Muggle wedding?"

He had his hands in his pockets, and his shoulders were hunched a little defensively, and he looked so damned appealing in reluctant helplessness, that Hermione couldn't help but launch herself at him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his surprised mouth.

His dark gray eyes widened slightly as he caught her in his arms, steadying them around her to keep from falling over. Her soft little lips were molded so sweetly against his, and he couldn't contain the joy that swept through him at her obvious happiness to have him at her doorstep. Draco smiled against her mouth. This was so much more than he'd anticipated, but he relished having Hermione's body wrapped around his. He felt the loneliness of the past few months, and really, his whole life, slipping away as Hermione playfully licked his upper lip.

She was really, absolutely adorable.

Hermione realized she was snogging Draco in the street in front of an assortment of neighbors and passers-by for the second time in two days, and tried to put a damper on her enthusiasm. Not that it seemed to be hurting Draco's feelings to be attacked by her, but it was rather undignified. She broke away from him and felt a blush rise on her cheeks as she smiled up at him.

"Hi," she said shyly.

"Hi yourself, Little Girl," Draco grinned down at her. He tucked his hands into her thick wavy hair and kissed her mouth gently.

"Now that we've established that you're incredibly happy to see me and obviously missed me tremendously, I'd like to discuss wedding fashion and telephone correspondence. Oh, and dinner. Would you like to join me?" Draco stood back and caught her hand in his, tangling their fingers together.

Hermione gathered her senses. Clothes, phones, dinner. Okay… She mentally shook her head to clear the fuzz that had overtaken her mind, and began at the simplest point.

"Well, I typically wear slacks and a blouse to weddings unless they're black-tie, but I haven't been to one like that since I was little, so I guess really you could do the same thing. Not the blouse though, that would stand out badly." Hermione grinned up at Draco as she thought about it further.

"Really, Draco, I think what you're wearing today or even yesterday to church would be about right for this wedding, dress-code wise. A lot of people will even wear jeans and trainers or boots, since it's outdoors. I plan to dress marginally nicer because I'll be standing on the stage so I want to look more professional." Hermione mentally evaluated her own wardrobe choice for the wedding, then continued. "Just don't wear a blue blouse with brown slacks and high heeled boots, please," she said as she tugged on his hand to encourage him to come inside with her.

"And why not? It's a good damn thing I asked. No blouse, no boots, no brown slacks. You have a lot of demands on my wardrobe for this wedding, Little Girl." Draco happily allowed himself to be dragged up the stairs, through her multiple locks and back into her Fortress.

"Because that's what I'm wearing, obviously. It would look ridiculous if we matched," she said as she keyed the code and popped open her flat door. She was about to retreat to her bedroom to find her shoes when she found herself spinning around and suddenly pinned to her door, with two strong arms around her.

Draco bent his head to hers, and started what she'd left off on the street below. Her lips were slightly puffy, from just downstairs and possibly still from yesterday, and he couldn't resist sucking on her bottom lip, hoping to cause it to swell even more. His hands skimmed down her sides and met the bottom hem of her shirt, and without thinking, he snuck his fingers under them hem to skim across her belly and back. Hermione shuddered under his touch, and broke away with a gasp.

"Whoa! Hey now, Malfoy. I thought we were going to get to know each other better first?" She tugged her shirt down, pushing his hands out in the process, but she also rested her forehead against his chest as she tried to get her heart rate under control, not wanting to part contact with him entirely just yet.

"Yeh, sorry. It wasn't me, it was my hands. They're curious about you," he said jokingly as he struggled to straighten his mind out.

"I'm curious about you too. I missed you today," she confessed.

Draco chuckled. "We're quite a pair, aren't we?"

"What do you mean?"

"I almost fell to my death today because I was too busy thinking about yesterday and this afternoon, and forgot I was standing on top of a ten foot ladder."

"Oh no!"

"Oh yes. Luckily I was alone and no one else saw me nearly kill myself. Ah, the joys of life without magic: near death experiences at least once a week." Draco backed up to let her move around him. He rubbed his hands together as he looked around her flat. Besides the furnishings and books, she really had no personal affects lying around. No art, no pictures, no homey touches that identified the place as her own. Much like his own flat, he supposed. But Hermione's place was like an empty gallery, whereas his was like an empty cell.

Hermione's voice floated back to him from somewhere behind the sheetrock wall. "I don't know what world you grew up in, but this past month is the longest I've gone without being nearly killed every day. Didn't we go to the same school?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about. Our school was the safest place in the world. I only nearly died there maybe half a dozen times."

"A week?"

"Of course not. All right, maybe half a dozen times every school year, but no more than that."

"Wow you did have it easy. I think that's why I sympathize so much with your displacement now, you know? Life in the castle was tough for me. All laws of nature thrown out the window, half the school population either hating me or flat out wanting me dead." Hermione strolled out of one doorway, fingers weaving her hair into a braid as she spoke. She looked up at Draco to find him staring down at her, white faced and distressed.

"Hey, are you all right?" she asked.

"I'm sorry!" he gasped. Hundreds of images of Hermione as a little girl, falling prey to one wicked prank or hex after another flitted through his mind. Not all of it had been him, but a lot of it had been. How could she possibly have forgiven him?

"Hey, Draco, relax. I'm sorry too. It's okay now, right? Besides, I forgave you ages ago for all that crap from school." Hermione touched his chest as she spoke, and when he didn't jump away she wrapped her arms around him.

"How? Why? When?" he asked as he hugged her in return.

"The first time you saved my life, idiot. I'm not completely ungrateful, you know," Hermione leaned back to look up at him, and he smiled wanly down at her. He opened his mouth to say something, but she cut him off by reaching up to quickly kiss him. Draco cradled her face in his hands, treasuring her warmth and comfort and softness, and reveled in her gratitude and forgiveness.

Hermione opened her eyes and touched his face with her hands as well, and watched as Draco opened his eyes to gaze at her. They stood there for a moment, just looking at each other, and then Hermione smiled at him.

"How about we ignore the heavy shit for the rest of the afternoon and talk about food instead?" she asked as she grabbed his hand and led him towards her bookshelves.

"All right," he replied as she dragged him down to the floor next to her while she started pulling a handful of books from the lowest shelf.

"Now these are all part of my Mum's collection of cook books, but they should serve as a good starting point for us. First thing we need to determine is what kind of food you like to eat, and how easily you'll pick up on reading recipes and working from them."

For the next hour or so, Hermione and Draco discussed the basics of cooking, the similarities between food preparation and potion brewing, and the Muggle necessity of germ control around food. Later on, armed with a fairly extensive grocery list, Hermione took Draco on a trip to the grocer that left them exhausted and half-starved by the time they arrived at Draco's flat. Three hundred Pounds worth of food and food prep supplies were unceremonially pushed into refrigerator and cupboard, and then the two ran down the steps to the street to peruse the restaurants across the street from Draco's flat.

/…../

"Oh Gods, Granger, that was amazing." Draco groaned, wrapping his arms around the most wonderful girl he knew.

"Draco, you are a complete pig." Hermione said, resting her head against Draco's chest.

"Couldn't help myself, it was just so good," he moaned. "All this wasted time! I've been missing out on so much!"

"Well that's what you get for not being more adventurous when you're on your own. You're probably going to regret it later though." Hermione chuckled. She and Draco had spent the past couple hours in a Tapas bar just down the street from his flat, and Draco had tried EVERYTHING. Hermione presumed his uncharacteristic hunger had to do with a combination of his head being in the clouds while he'd been at work – he'd forgotten to eat lunch – and spending the afternoon with her talking about food, and then shopping for food.

Food, food, food. It was a good thing she was going running with Sue tomorrow, she could see that spending too many meals with Draco could be hazardous to her figure. Hermione poked him in the belly, which caused Draco to wince.

"It's probably a good thing you hadn't found that restaurant before, or I'd probably be calling you Porkette," Hermione grinned at him as he tugged her towards his flat.

"Nonsense, Malfoy's don't get fat. And in any case, it would be Porky, not Porkette. I am most assuredly male, Little Girl." Draco stopped suddenly, his eyes catching on a neon shape in a shop window.

"Hermione, do you remember what I was saying about phones? Do you have one?" he asked as he read the name of the shop.

"Oh, actually no I don't. I've been meaning to get one for emergencies, but it really hasn't been a priority yet," she said as she followed his gaze across the street. It was a store that sold mobile phones and service plans.

"Excellent. Let's go shopping," he said, and with that, pulled her into the mobile phone store.

Half an hour later, Hermione was still puzzling over the differences in cost and features in some of the more generic phones when suddenly Draco plopped a large blue smartphone in her hand.

"Oh, Draco, I don't need one like this. Just a simple phone will work. Look, this one has a camera!" Hermione held out a small flip phone, but Draco pushed the blue phone into her hand again. It was nearly as large as her entire hand, and quite heavy compared to the little flip phone.

"Blackberry has the most secure network. You can send and receive email on this without having to worry about your privacy being compromised. It's like your Fortress for your communication needs, yeh? Besides, my family holds a great deal of stock in this company. See this?" Draco pointed to the RIM logo.

"Yes?" Hermione asked blankly.

"That doesn't stand for Research In Motion – it actually stands for Really Impressive Malfoys," he said, winking at her.

Hermione giggled, then sobered. "Wait, your family owns stock in a Muggle telecommunications company?"

"Yes, ironic isn't it?"

"Incredibly."

"Come on now dear, put down the toy phone and step up to high tech. This is the latest thing, you know." Draco waved the bulky blue phone at her.

"How do you know that?" she asked doubtfully.

"It says so right over there on that poster," Draco said as he pointed across the store.

"But Draco, it's huge! It won't even fit in my pocket!" Hermione protested.

"Please, Little Girl. You don't go anywhere without your bag. Is there some reason why a mobile phone wouldn't be accepted by your ten books, lotion, hairbrush, house keys and assortment of highlighters?"

"Ugh, Draco, I don't even know how to use email!" Hermione was whining at this point, but Draco resolutely dragged her to the sales agent and got them both set up with, in Hermione's opinion, unnecessarily large and expensive mobile phones with far too many functions to suit her more modest sensibilities. The sales agent had shown Draco through the steps of setting up their email accounts, and _voila!_ She was the proud new owner of a Blueberry.

"It's not a _blue _berry, Little Girl, it's a Blackberry," Draco said as they walked out of the shop.

"But Draco, it's BLUE."

"It's not actually a fruit, Hermione. It's a phone."

"Yes I know this, Oh High Lord Draco of Amazing Snarkiness," Hermione said as she fiddled with the new device.

Draco sighed. "Hermione, Hermione. It's Oh High Lord Draco of Amazing Awesomeness. Or, if you want to email me, it's bibliophile1."

"Hey, about that…"

"What? About my choice in selecting our brilliant email addresses?"

"Sort of. How come you're number one and I'm number two?"

"Don't be obtuse, Little Girl. I'm male, you're female. I'm dominant, you're submissive. I'm the Master, you're th-" Draco was cut off by Hermione's elbow in his still-full belly.

"You do not want to finish that sentence, Mr. Malfoy," she threatened, but she was smiling as he led her up the steps to his flat.

"No not really, no matter how funny it was, I like my body parts in working order. Okay, how about this? I'm bigger than you, I'm a Librarian, and I saved you from the embarrassment of owning a mobile phone that looked like it was built by Ellie and Rosie." Draco unlocked his flat and led Hermione inside.

"But I'm older, I'm the more experienced Muggle, and I'm by far the more well-read of the two of us," Hermione protested, but by then Draco had already dragged Hermione to his bedroom and had pulled her day-bag to the floor, along with her jacket, and tumbled her onto his bed.

He didn't kiss her though, instead Draco settled himself next to her supine form, and tugged her close to him until they were facing each other, laying sideways on top of the covers with their heads on his pillows. They lay there for a few minutes, watching each other. Finally Hermione raised an eyebrow. Draco lifted one finger, indicating she should wait a moment, then pulled out his new mobile and clicked away at it for a few seconds. Then he watched her and waited.

"Ping!" Hermione's previously silent day-bag made a new noise. She rolled her eyes and scrambled away from Draco to lean over the bed and fish her new mobile out of her bag.

To: bibliophile2

From: bibliophile1

Subject: Slumber Party

Ms. Granger,

Can I interest you in a night-cap?

Yours Truly,

DAM

Hermione giggled, and clicked to reply to his message.

To: bibliophile1

From: bibliophile2

Subject: Re: Slumber Party

Mr. Malfoy,

I always get a kick out of people's initials that spell words, and find it particularly amusing that yours only lacks one letter to be a popular curse word. Sure, I'll accept a nightcap, but I don't know about a slumber party. How do I know you're not trying to get me intoxicated so you can take advantage of me while I sleep?

Not as Desperate as I Must Look,

HJG

Draco snorted, and started clicking away at his keypad as soon as he received her message. Once Draco finished his message and hit send, he climbed off the bed and headed towards his kitchen, where Hermione heard him rummaging in the cupboards and drawers.

To: bibliophile2

From: bibliophile1

Subject: Re: Re: Slumber Party

Ms. Iron Knickers Granger,

Far be it for me to attempt to besmirch your honor. I was actually suggesting an evening of toenail painting and gossip.

Red or white?

Almost as lecherous as I look, but not quite,

DAM

She read his message and laughed out loud. Then she set her mobile down as well and, pushing off her shoes and socks, padded silently out to the kitchen. There she found Draco standing with his back to her, next to a selection of wine bottles, cork screw in one hand and two wine glasses in another.

"Iron Knickers, really?" she asked playfully as she wrapped her arms around his midsection. Draco smiled as he felt Hermione press her small body against his, and set the glasses and cork screw down so that he could turn to fold her in his arms. He bent down and pressed a kiss to her mouth.

"Hey, I didn't come up with it. Honestly I thought one of your Gryffindork friends invented that one," Draco said as he smoothed his hands up and down her back.

"Mmm, I wouldn't be surprised. Harry was pretty set on defending my virtue. Honestly, he couldn't have done a better job if my parents had paid him to do it. I think the only reason he let me go out with Viktor was because he had a bit of a man-crush on him. God knows Ronald did." Hermione laughed, and even Draco chuckled.

"Oh yes, I remember that. Ah, the good ol' days. That was rather the last gasp before the plunge, eh? The Yule Ball, the Quidditch World Cup, and that Great Cluster-fuck of a Triwizard Tournament."

"You have no idea," Hermione said, and rolled her eyes in memory of the long days and nights spent desperately trying to research Harry's Triwizard Clues, and getting stuck in a trance to wait at the bottom of Black Lake for a duck-footed Bulgarian boy who'd barely spoken a dozen sentences to her.

"I'd like to, you know. Come on, Hermione, tell me a story," Draco whispered as he kissed his way from her cheek to her nose to her lips.

"Mmm, you mean like a bedtime story?" Hermione asked as Draco shifted her closer against him and pulled her hair to the side so he could kiss her neck.

"Yes, a bedtime story would be delightful, Little Girl. I promise I'm not trying to get into your knickers. I just, well, I'd like you to stay." Draco tried to casually shrug a shoulder, but Hermione saw the hope and near-desperation in his eyes. She smiled. Hermione knew what he meant. It was nice to have someone around at night to keep the bad dreams away. She hadn't slept well in months, not since Harry had died. And it wasn't like she couldn't handle Draco if he decided to pull a Sutton and try to get aggressively frisky with her.

"You know, I am rather sleepy. How about you pour the red and I'll think of a good bedtime story," Hermione said as she extracted herself from Draco's arms.

And so she did. Hermione lay next to Draco and told him the whole tale of their Fourth Year, from the time she and the boys ran into Draco and his parents at the Quidditch World Cup to their ride home on the Hogwarts Express at the end of the year.

"Did you know we were in St. Mungo's for two weeks after that shit-pile of curses you lot set on us? My parents were ready to have you all expelled and have your wands taken, but the spells were so mixed up there was no way to tell who'd done what – that and there was some unfortunate recorded evidence that I'd started it." Draco sighed. Hermione took his hand as the sun was peeking over the horizon.

"We are different creatures now, you and I." Hermione tried to say softly, not wanting him to get too maudlin. Draco's scoff caused her to sit up and look at him.

"Hermione, I have no idea what you're talking about. I was young, brilliant, incredibly good looking and ridiculously wealthy then. That has not changed in the slightest."

"Nonsense Draco. Look at how much more modest you are now!" Hermione said.

"That's so true, Love. Must be why you're so wildly attracted to me now." Draco said as Hermione giggled.

To Be Continued.


	12. Ch 12 Boyfriend-Girlfriend

**Author's Note: I own no person, no place, no thing – except the plot! If you recognize it, it probably belongs to Ms. Rowling or some other awesome super-human**.

**P.S.**: **Let the smut begin. Don't say I didn't warn you!**

**Chapter 12 Boyfriend-Girlfriend**

"No Sue! I don't want to wear a dress. It's just not… me!" Hermione protested as her running partner/only female friend dragged her into a vintage dress shop in the center of town. It was Thursday, and instead of their regular run through the Park, Sue had elected to make sure Hermione was as uncomfortable and embarrassed as possible for Saturday's wedding.

"Oh Hermione, come on! While I've figured out that you don't particularly care for dresses, you have to give in. It's a wedding, for goodness sake! Besides, don't you want Draco panting after you like a mongrel in heat at the sight of your legs?" Sue joked as she led Hermione to the rack of pinafores, sundresses, petticoated skirts, and wiggle dresses that were reminiscent of the old movie wardrobes of women from Marilyn Monroe to Doris Day.

"Ugh, Sue. I don't know. I don't really want to call attention to myself like this. I'll be on the stage, not sitting at the tables! Besides, I don't want to give Sutton any more excuses to strip me with his eyes," Hermione groaned as Sue held up a gold satin _thing _that she would absolutely NEVER wear in public.

"About that. Shaun and Renny are going to talk to him, try to get him to behave. After all, you have a boyfriend now, right? And wouldn't Draco love to see you in this? It matches your eyes!" Sue said slyly as she pulled out a lime green, polyester, puff of a dress that made Hermione burst into laughter.

"Gross, Sue! It's got feathers! Get that thing away from me! And Draco's not… well, he's not my _boyfriend_, per se. We're just really close," Hermione tried very hard not to blush as Sue smiled widely at her.

"So Renny didn't see you and Draco snogging outside your flat after church Sunday? Or in front of the Library yesterday afternoon?" Sue asked innocently. Hermione hid her face in her hands and squeaked in embarrassment.

"You guys are awful!" Hermione wailed.

"Oh come on, Sweetie. You know how the boys love to gossip. Michael and Winnie even said they saw you two cuddled up outside that Tapas place on Monday. So just admit it already. He's your boyfriend," Sue gloated.

"Sue! Oh for goodness sake, I loathe living in a small town!" Hermione pushed her friend away and tried to make for the front door, but Sue just laughed and pulled her back to the dress racks.

/…../

"Draco, I have made up my mind. I'm going to buy a car," Hermione said decisively that evening as she scrambled eggs. He stood next to her and diced mushrooms, carrots and onions into oblivion, then measured soy sauce and oil into a heated pan.

They'd decided to try egg based dishes for the first week, since eggs were one of Draco's favorite foods. Tuesday they'd made spinach omelets and toast, Wednesday they'd made enough egg salad for dinner sandwiches and his lunch the next day, and tonight Hermione was demonstrating one of her Dad's favorites, vegetable fried rice with extra eggs.

"Really? What kind? Are you still thinking about that gigantic Lexus? The sort I've only seen very old women drive?"

"Oh, ha ha, Draco. I like them. My parents had one, so I already know they're really safe and outrageously comfortable, and they have loads of room for long-legged traveling companions," Hermione said as she refilled her wine glass before turning back to the stove top to construct the dish.

"I was rather thinking about getting a car too, but then I don't know how to drive," Draco said as he carefully placed the pot of cooked rice next to Hermione and the scarily hot frying pan. His fingers hurt just looking at it.

"I could teach you once I get mine. According to reputable sources, I am a very good teacher," Hermione said as she poured the rice into the hot oil and started adding the vegetables, soy and egg. Then she turned to Draco and handed him the wooden spatulas, instructing him to keep everything moving in the pan so it wouldn't burn.

"Yes you are, Little Girl, but are you sure you want such an enormous old lady car? Wouldn't you rather have something less huge? Like a Porsche? Much more sporting, yeh? Plus I'm pretty sure I'd look fantastic driving one. Don't you agree?" Draco heard Hermione giggle next to him and turned to look at her.

"Something you'd like to share Ms. Granger?" he asked.

"Draco, I am sometimes floored by your arrogance, but it is rather endearing," she said cheekily, then she pinched his bum.

"Hey!" he protested in shock as rice got flicked all over the stovetop. He'd been so startled by Hermione's pinch on his arse that his arms had jerked and dinner had gone flying. But, burnt sticky rice aside, she'd just made a very forward move and he was not going to let it go un-noticed.

Hermione's laugh was cut off as Draco quickly flipped the burner to the off position and then jerked her into his arms, sweeping her legs out from under her and depositing her bottom onto the counter opposite the stovetop. His mouth was already on hers and his fingers were curling into her hair by the time she caught her breath enough to react.

And react Hermione did. She opened her legs and wrapped them around his hips, dragging him into her as she enthusiastically wrapped her arms around his neck, deepening their kiss. Draco gasped, then groaned into Hermione's mouth as she flexed her hips against the front of his trousers. Fuck! That had felt so bloody good, and it had been so bloody long… Draco dropped his hands to Hermione's hips, pulling her even harder against him as he rolled his own hips against hers. Her answering whimper goaded him on, and Draco flicked his tongue across her lips and swept into her mouth as he bucked his pelvis against her, over and over again.

Hermione untucked the back of Draco's shirt from his trousers so her hands could explore the skin of his lower back. He shuddered and pushed harder into the apex of her thighs, stroking upward at her denim covered sex with his aching erection. His own hands ripped her shirt up away from her belly and back, clasping and searching across her skin for something he could hold on to. He broke away from her mouth and trailed little biting kisses down her jaw and her neckline as she leaned her head back to rest on the cupboard behind her.

"Little Girl, I'm going to eat you up one day very, very soon," Draco growled against her neck.

"But not now?" Hermione asked breathlessly.

"Not now. I'm trying to be a decent sort and at least wait a week before I try to work my way into your knickers. Aren't you proud of me?" Draco whispered in her ear as he worked his hands under her shirt to thumb the underside of her breasts. Hermione twitched, then jerked hard as the cogs in her brain put together what Draco had just said.

"Merlin, Draco! How long have we been together?" Hermione's legs dropped from his waist as she tried to pull her shirt back down, removing his tantalizing hands as she did so.

"Hey! Wait, I didn't stay I wanted to _stop_, Hermione," Draco whined as he tried to bat her hands out of the way so he could sneak back inside her shirt.

"Cut it out for a second, Malfoy. A week? Lord, it hasn't even been a week?" Hermione looked up at him, appalled.

Draco scratched at the scar on the side of his head, trying to think.

"No, Little Girl. This time last week I distinctly remember coming home with a dinner of take-away tea and a scone. I spent the evening staring out the window and feeling sorry for myself in my lonesome existence," he said rather ruefully. "Seems like ages ago now. We've been awfully busy," he added as he tried to pull her legs back up around him.

"But, but, but…" Hermione stuttered as Draco tried to insinuate himself against her thighs again.

"But what, Love? You came into the Library last Friday. That's a week from tomorrow. I'll be good tonight, but come tomorrow its game on," he said with a wink. He tried to dive in to kiss her again, but she put her hands against his mouth and pushed him back. His eyebrows puckered in confusion as she gazed at him with wide, slightly panicked eyes.

"Wrrt-" Draco reached up and pulled her hands off his mouth, then tried again.

"What's going on Hermione? If we're moving too fast, it's fine. I don't mind slowing down. I told you before I don't want to mess this up," he said as he clasped her hands in his.

"Oh Draco, thank you, that's really thoughtful. Sorry, I just, well, I guess I just didn't really think about how short of a time we've been around each other… like this…" Hermione wiggled her hips, causing Draco to grunt and shift against her. She could see that he was still confused, but he responded before she could explain.

"Is that bad? Am I doing something wrong? I'm sorry, I didn't mean-" Draco pushed her legs down and backed away from her.

"No! Draco, that's not it at all!" Hermione cried. She saw his ashen face and immediately felt awful. He thought he'd offended her by moving too fast! Sweet Lord in Heaven, the exact OPPOSITE was her problem! Hermione hopped off the counter and leapt at him, wrapping her arms around his waist as she tried to quickly explain. But, since she was nervous, her words came out as a rapid, jumbled babble against his chest.

"It's just that today, Sue called you my boyfriend! And we started talking about sex and babies and the wedding on Saturday, and I bought a dress so I'd look nice for you and I NEVER wear dresses and then I started thinking about birth control because we're really young, you know, and I definitely don't want any kids but I know at the rate we're going we'll end up in bed together, and I want you Draco! I'm just shocked with myself that this is going so fast because I went to the clinic this afternoon and I got a prescription to get on the Pill! But I can't start taking it until late next week because I have to start it on the first day of my period and then I need to wait a couple weeks to make sure it's working and I was just thinking that's fine because we've been together for a while and we'll be together for a while because I really like you, Draco… I just… I'm sorry I didn't think that through a little more," Hermione blushed as she felt Draco chuckle against her.

"Well, that was enlightening, Little Girl. I take from the speed of the raging torrent of words that just burst out of you that you're embarrassed?" he asked as he wrapped one arm around her waist, while reaching with his other for the wine bottle and their glasses.

Hermione nodded, then let go so that she could help him refill their wine glasses. Then she followed his lead to the living room and sat on the couch next to him.

"If it makes you feel any better, Wanda's been poking fun at me all week," Draco told her.

"Uh, why?" Hermione asked as she took a large gulp of wine. She couldn't believe she'd just said all that! Out loud! To Draco Malfoy!

"Apparently I'm rather dopey and absent-minded now that I have a girlfriend," Draco said with a small smile that sent a tremendous thrill through Hermione's body. He just said girlfriend! "And accident prone too, she's forbidden me from getting on any more ladders until I get my head out of the clouds – her words, not mine. She says she doesn't want my death on her hands," he finished, rolling his eyes as he swirled the wine around in his glass.

Hermione giggled, and Draco lifted his gaze to meet hers.

"What's so funny?" he asked.

"It's nothing, I just – I don't know, I'm just wrapping my head around the whole thing and I feel a bit silly. You know? I mean, we've known each other practically our whole lives, and now – well…" Hermione drifted off as Draco raised an eyebrow.

"Silly, Hermione? You feel a bit silly? Did I tell you I got lost on the way to work yesterday morning? I was apparently day-dreaming and walked straight past the Library. I think I was halfway to London before I realized what I'd done. I'm not getting nearly enough sleep at night because YOU, Little Girl, are a snuggly sleeper, and yet I can't bear to kick you out of my bed because it's bloody wonderful having you beside me. So I've spent the last two nights watching you sleep instead of getting any sleep myself, which means since I ran into you last week I've probably only slept about fifteen hours. So I'm exhausted and absent-minded and over-fed and half out of my mind with lust. Because of you. A girl I've known practically my whole life." Draco snorted, then he said, "At lunchtime today I put salt in my coffee instead of sugar. I thought Wanda was going to wet herself, she laughed so hard. I spat coffee all over the break room."

Hermione threw her head back and laughed, and Draco joined her. They laughed together over the strangeness of fate, their own crazy luck, and this new, amazing thing they'd started with the most unlikely person either one could have imagined for themselves.

/…../

Draco spent the night at Hermione's Friday. Hermione hired a cab, and they drove to the local car dealerships so that Hermione could peruse the inventory. In the end she made the most outrageous purchase of her life when she fell head over heels in love with the show room model, a deep red sparkling wonder of a 'bloody gigantic', in Draco's words, four door sedan. It had a cool navigation touch-screen display and, according to the delighted salesman, a fabulous sound system. Draco was intrigued with the sunroof, and Hermione had to forcibly remind him to behave normally until they left the dealership. Hermione got the biggest kick out of handing the stunned salesman her bank card for the purchase, as his regular customers normally didn't pay cash for seventy-thousand Pound cars. Of course his regular customers weren't typically twenty years old, either, as Draco oh so kindly pointed out again.

"I was starting to wonder if the wanker was going to ask you to marry him or something," Draco complained as they pulled out of the dealership.

"Oh, it was funny, Draco. I probably just made his sales quota for the month by paying cash for this beautiful thing. I think I'll name her… hmm…"

"Godzilla?"

"No, Draco."

"Leviathan?"

"No, Draco."

"Behemoth?"

No, Draco!"

"Goyle?"

Hermione laughed. "It's a girl car, not a boy. And she's a beautiful Gryffindor, not a great hulking ogre of a Slytherin."

"Well, you can't name her Hermione, that's already taken."

"What, are you saying I'm a beautiful Gryffindor?" Hermione scoffed.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Yes, of course. People didn't call you Gryffindor's Princess because you were some knock-kneed, hawk-nosed, wart of a girl. I believe that post was already taken by that unfortunate Midgen girl, who happened to be Goyle's girlfriend, so I actually remember her quite clearly."

Hermione was quiet for a minute or so, then she said in a small voice, "You think I'm beautiful?"

Draco turned slowly to face her, puzzled by her awkward question. "Of course I do, Hermione. You've always been beautiful, even when I hated your guts and played awful tricks on you when we were kids."

"But that doesn't make any sense! Beautiful girls don't get picked on!" Hermione wailed as they circled the streets around her flat, looking for an available parking space.

"Little Girl, I don't know what planet you grew up on, but here on Earth, that's what little boys do to little girls they fancy. Stick their pigtails in inkwells, put frogspawn in their pockets, curse them with giant beaver teeth…" Draco grinned at her glare.

"You did NOT curse me with those enormous teeth because you fancied me and you know it, Draco Malfoy," she huffed. She pulled into a parking space, then gave her steering wheel one final hug before she exited her new car and locked the doors.

"No, I don't suppose I did back then. But that doesn't mean I didn't think you were beautiful," he said as he took her key ring from her to start unlocking his way into her Fortress.

/…../

"Draco?"

"Mmmmm?" He was more than ninety percent asleep when he heard her whisper his name in the dark.

"You're the fourth person to ever tell me that in my life. That I'm beautiful, I mean," she whispered to him. Draco opened one eye to see Hermione lying next to him in her bed, with her giant down comforter tucked all around her head, like a child.

"You're beautiful, Hermione Granger. If you want me to, I'll tell you every day," he answered her, and quickly kissed her forehead before settling back down into his pillow.

"No, I don't need that. I don't have confidence issues or anything. It's just really nice to hear. Thank you, Draco."

"You're welcome, Love. So, who else told you then? Since you're keeping track," he asked. It didn't really make sense that only three other blokes had been forward enough to tell her she was beautiful. Hermione had always been one of the prettiest girls in their school – whether his younger self had wanted to admit it or not.

"My parents, and Harry. And now you," she whispered.

Draco's sleep induced fog flew away as he comprehended what she'd said. He sat up and stared down at her incredulously.

"What? That's really it?" he asked, completely nonplussed.

"Yes, why? What's wrong?" Hermione asked, and rolled onto her back so she could watch him. He didn't have a long sleeve shirt on, just a sleep vest and some pajama bottoms, so she could see his typically covered Dark Mark and Phoenix tattoos. The Dark Mark on his left forearm had shrunk and faded somewhat since Voldemort had fallen, but his Phoenix tattoo was still huge and vibrantly alive looking on his pale skin. Not that it moved anymore like it used to, it was just so life-like! The crest and top of the phoenix's head curled around the front of his collar bone, and the very bottom of its boldly shaded black, red, and yellow tail feathers curled around his Dark Mark. The entire bird curved around the expanse of his arm, each wing nearly reaching all the way around to touch the other. It was a truly beautiful work of art.

Hermione reached out with her free hand to trail her fingers along the closest edge of tail feather that she could reach, and Draco watched her carefully. No one, outside of Muggle medical professionals, had touched the bare skin of his left arm since before he'd gotten his Dark Mark. Honestly, it felt bloody wonderful to have her small fingers caress the skin there.

"Are you serious, Hermione? No one but Harry and your Mum and Dad ever told you that you're beautiful?" Draco asked. It didn't make any sense! She'd dated the Weasel for several months earlier this year, surely that wanker wasn't stupid enough to have never told her – but Hermione was shaking her head even as Draco doubted the Weasel's intelligence and sanity.

"Excuse me for saying this Hermione, but you've got to have the worst fucking taste in men – outside myself of course – I've ever known in a woman. How could you tolerate being with someone like the Weasel? He never told you that you're beautiful? No wonder why you left him! I'm surprised you didn't give up on men in general if that's your level of experience!" Draco said in disgust.

"Oh come off it, Draco. Guys don't just randomly tell girls that they're beautiful or special or whatever unless they want something like a hand-job or a shag."

Draco watched the phrase 'hand-job' fall off her lips like music notes from Heaven, and pounced.

Hermione squealed. "Draco! Hey! Draco, what are you-?" She felt him kiss his way down her neck and towards her chest, licking and nipping along the way. One of his hands shifted up to tangle itself in her long hair, while the other snaked its way down to the hem of her shirt, seeking to pull it up away from her stomach. Gasping for air as she watched the shifting and flexing of the muscles along his arm and shoulder, she couldn't help but marvel at the swaying form of the phoenix as it seemed to dance with Draco as he tunneled under her shirt.

"You said hand-job," he whispered against her heaving chest, "that's all I heard before my brain over-loaded and shut down. Oh, and you are the most beautiful, special and whatever girl in the entire Universe." He sat back and looked at her, grinning like a loon as she squirmed and giggled under his questing hands.

"Oh for goodness sake, is _that_ what this is about?" Hermione sat up and stared at Draco, who indeed did look like his brain had short-circuited. Between his large goofy smile and his large glassy eyes, she couldn't remember ever seeing him look so utterly… like a young, normal, regular, healthy English male. And a gorgeous one, at that. She held up her hands, silently requesting that he stay back, and she hopped out of the bed and ducked into her bathroom.

Honestly, she was rather thrilled with the idea of touching Draco like that. She knew he was just being silly, but she was rather intrigued by the possibilities of what kind of pleasures she would be able to bring about in Draco. Hermione selected her least floral smelling lotion and a clean towel and quietly paced back into her bedroom, intent on the task ahead of her.

Draco was still sitting back on his haunches in the middle of Hermione's bed, wondering why she'd jumped out so quickly when she sauntered back into the room, wickedly grinning and carrying…

A bottle of lotion and a hand-towel.

Holy shite!

Draco held his hands up. "Wait, Hermione, I wasn't being serious! I can't believe you just went and got lotion and a towel!"

Hermione giggled, and tossed her accessories on the bed. This adorably sexy and embarrassed man in her bed thought she was _beautiful_, and she was determined to thank him. She just hoped she wasn't being too forward – after all they'd only been seeing each other for a week - Hermione quickly pushed that thought from her head as she took in Draco's half-panicked, half-longing expression, and jumped at him, pushing him down into the pillows.

"Merlin, Hermione, I wasn't actua-" Draco's protest was cut off by Hermione's lips as she settled herself on top of him and kissed him. Nestling her thighs just over his growing erection, she rubbed herself against him as he gasped and whined into her mouth. Hermione trailed her hands up his arms and across his tensed shoulders as she leaned up, encouraging him to rise with her. She continued kissing him as she found the bottom edge of his vest and slowly pushed it up his torso, breaking away from his mouth only long enough to pull it over his head and toss it to the side.

Draco couldn't believe Hermione was doing this to him. They'd agreed just last night to wait a few weeks to let the newness and excitement wear off before they got physical, and here she was, throwing that whole - admittedly equally erotic and disappointing - conversation out the window! Fuck. Now here he was, shirtless and rock-hard in bed with a wriggling and very determined Hermione, and Draco didn't think he'd be able to resist what she was offering so freely. But oh, he tried.

For about ten seconds.

With a sudden growl of impatience, Draco wrenched her mouth away from him and pushed her backwards until she fell back on the bed, then he clambered on top of her and settled his painfully hard cock _right there, _and thrust –

"Fuck!" he groaned. If there hadn't been any clothing in the way, he'd be buried in her by now. Oh Gods, just thinking about her heated center was going to send him over the edge. He rocked his hips again, and shuddered at the exquisite pleasure of being this close to her.

Hermione's eyes were open wide, watching Draco as he fought with himself. She pushed her hands into the waistband of his sleep pants, and, on his next upward thrust, pushed the pants down over his backside. She shifted her feet enough to use them to hook his pants and drag them down his legs, leaving her with a very exposed, very aroused Draco, gazing down at her with hooded black eyes.

"Now that you've got me naked, Little Girl, what are you going to do with me?" he asked in a low, rough voice.

Sweet Circe, that was probably the hottest thing Hermione had ever heard in her life! She smiled at him wantonly, then reached down and grasped the base of his straining erection in her hand, stroking once, up, and back down.

"God…Damn…Her…Mione…" Draco hissed between clenched teeth. He pulled his hips away from her for a second, and she instinctively stroked upwards as his velvety skin moved back in her hand. He pushed forward, and she slid her hand back to the base. With her free hand she pushed his shoulder, indicating to him that she wanted him to lie back in the bed.

He snapped his eyes open to look at her, still fully clothed, and he wanted to do something about that, get her as naked as he was and burrow his way inside her, but then she tugged on his cock again, rubbing his leaking head and spreading the moisture along his length, and all he could do was groan and give in to the overwhelming _pleasure_ that was rippling through him in increasing waves of…

"Fuck!" he cried as the heated tension grew in his belly with every stroke. Hermione watched him intently as he fought to hold on to any thread of control, but she completely over-rode his sense of self-preservation as she quickly and… fucking efficiently as HELL… brought his shaking, aching body to the most powerful orgasm he'd had in _years_.

Hermione's womb clenched deliciously as she watched her – well, her boyfriend, honestly she couldn't do something like this with Draco and not want to call him her boyfriend - tense, coil up and explode under her hand. His back arched off the bed, his hands scrabbled at the sheets and he squeezed his eyes shut as he shouted and came in a torrent across his flat stomach.

He was really beautiful, in that moment, all heat and muscle and fire and bone, covered by pale skin with a light sheen of sweat and a dusting of blond hair. His chest heaved, his hands relaxed, and he cracked open one eye to look up at her.

Hermione beamed at him, and held up the towel, and Draco couldn't help but laugh. He took the towel and draped it across the mess on his stomach, then reached up and pulled Hermione down on top of him in a bear hug that crushed the air out of her lungs.

Hermione squawked, "Draco!" and he loosened his arms so that she could shift and rest comfortably against him.

"I'm not sure whether to be horribly embarrassed that this whole encounter lasted about thirty seconds, or completely impressed by your astounding efficiency, my darling Girl," Draco chuckled as he threaded his hand through her hair.

"Well, Efficiency is my middle name," Hermione said smugly as she wiggled her way up to prop herself on his chest, then she leaned in and kissed the tip of his nose.

"That's funny, I thought your middle name was Jean," Draco said as he reached with his free hand to pull the comforter up over the two of them.

Hermione blinked in surprise. "You know my middle name?" she asked.

"Of course I do. We've known each other since we were kids, remember? And I think, given what you just did to me, it would be highly inappropriate if I didn't know your middle name, don't you agree?" Draco responded, then yawned hugely.

Hermione giggled, he looked so young and innocent, yawning and rubbing at his sleepy eyes. "I agree, Mr. Malfoy. Now, go to sleep. We have a big day tomorrow and I don't want to hear about you spending the night watching me sleep instead of resting."

"But, what about you? I was hoping to return the… favor?" Draco asked, but the delivery and intent were ruined by another massive yawn.

Hermione placed her hand over his eyes, feeling his lashes tickle her hand as he blinked.

"Draco, dear, you're seventy-five percent asleep. I'm perfectly content and in no way disappointed that you're not raring dive in and unlock the secrets of my body."

"Wha- damn, Love, did you have to say it like that?" Draco tried to raise himself up, but Hermione held him down with her weight still propped on his chest.

"No, Draco, I'm serious. I'm fine. Let's just sleep… okay?" Hermione's first yawn of the evening overtook her, making Draco chuckle as he wrapped his arms around her.

"You are undoubtedly the best girlfriend ever, Little Girl. Best. Girlfriend. Ever." Draco punctuated each word with a kiss, and then let his head fall back against the soft pillows as sleep carried him away.

/…../

Hermione watched Draco snoring lightly in the darkened room. Yes, she was a little… agitated… but it wasn't something she'd never felt before. And it wasn't like there was anything she could do about it anyway. She just hoped that when the time finally came, he wouldn't be too disappointed in her. She was really starting to fall for him, hard and fast. He seemed to be feeling the same way about her, and she hoped desperately that wouldn't change when he discovered her… deficiency. She sighed and looked over at her alarm clock. Cripes, it was almost midnight, and she needed to be up by six.

'Time for sleep, Little Girl,' she thought to herself, then snuggled against Draco's side and allowed the rhythm of his breaths to lull her into peaceful dreams.

To Be Continued.


	13. Chapter 13 Road Trip

**Author's Note: I own no person, no place, no thing – except the plot! If you recognize it, it probably belongs to Ms. Rowling or some other awesome super-human**.

**Chapter 13 Road Trip**

It was a two and a half hour drive up to the Cotswolds, where Renny's family had a cottage and a bit of rolling countryside to call their own. Hermione and Draco carried their overnight bags and her gig-bag down the stairs, packed everything they didn't immediately need into the boot, and, coffees in hand, sat in the front of her car, determinedly trying to figure out how to program the wedding venue's address into the navigation system of the car. But in the end, Hermione wasn't savvy enough, and Draco's mind was still on the events of last night when Hermione had so decisively and effectively wrapped her hands around him –

'Right. Mind out of the gutter, Malfoy,' he mentally chastised himself. He'd tried dragging her into the shower with him this morning, but she'd laughingly batted his hands away, saying she still had to get packed and that she'd be getting cleaned up at the Inn they were booked to stay at tonight.

"My hair might not be the chaos it was when I was younger, but it's still got very specific demands, and I can't risk angering it!" she'd cried as she'd struggled to keep away from the steam pouring out of the bath. Draco had been a little hurt, but she'd returned to him in seconds holding a steaming mug of English Breakfast and pointing out that he could always join her later, and his hurt evaporated under the onslaught of her sensibility.

"Maybe we could just follow Sue and Shaun?" Hermione wondered aloud as she fished her Blue-Blackberry out of her day-bag.

"Probably a good idea. Maybe we should have figured this thing out last night, eh?" Draco asked as he blandly pressed button after button on the console and touch screen, trying to get it to obey his will. He looked up as Hermione pushed a couple of flat plastic squares into his hand. CD's, she called them. Music. Not a bad idea, he supposed.

Ten minutes later they were cruising along behind Shaun and Sue's station wagon. Draco made to wave at the fairy girls in the backseat as they'd passed, but was surprised to see a large, brown creature with a gigantic pink tongue lolling out of its mouth instead.

"What the devil was THAT?" he asked Hermione in shock.

"Oh, the dog? That's Radagast the Brown." Hermione rolled her eyes. "Naturally."

"Gods, are you serious?"

"Completely. Guess what their Persian is named?"

"Do I want to know?"

"Yes, it's funny. Here's a clue: the cat has long gray fur."

"Oh you've got to be joking."

"Nope, they're hopeless." Hermione smiled as she flicked her turn signal and turned right. "I wouldn't mind getting a dog one day. We used to have one when I was little, but he died before I even started at Hogwarts. Have you ever had a pet?"

Draco was startled, he'd never even considered a familiar before, and the idea of a family pet was, in his mind, completely foreign. "No, never. I don't think my parents considered animals suitable companions – unless they were being used as slaves, of course. My mother had an owl, naturally, but it was loyal only to her."

"Hmm… I miss Crooks, but I guess you can't be around cats now, can you?" Hermione asked as wheels started to silently spin in her mind.

"Supposedly, but I haven't actually been around one, so I don't really know what would happen if I was. Do you want to get another cat?" he asked cautiously. Draco wouldn't deny Hermione a familiar, he remembered very clearly how she'd grieved when Crookshanks had died – burnt to death in an attack on one of their mobile tent camps. The tent that had been Hermione and Ginny's quarters had gone up quickly, and no one had been close enough to save the poor creature.

Hermione smiled sadly, and felt, even after more than a year, the deep pang of guilt and loss of her long-time friend. "No, Draco. I think my cat days are over." Then she glanced over at Draco, who was watching in fascination as Radagast leaned out the open window, barked at the other cars around them, and drooled all over the side of the Fraser's car. "But I think I'd like a dog." And with that, Hermione started to plan.

/…../

And so they drove along. Hermione intermittently sang and told stories, and Draco watched the landscape whizz by. Draco spent a few minutes poking absently at the buttons on the console, trying to acquiesce to Hermione's request to fast-forward to a different song when Hermione suggested Draco look at the Owner's Manual, which he located in a small cabinet in front of his knees. Hermione called it a glove compartment, but it only had her purchase papers and two small leather notebooks inside.

"Oh look Little Girl, your car came with free books. No wonder why you bought it."

"Draco, I'll have you know that all cars come with books. You're lucky, really, that I have positively no interest in the workings of a car, of there'd probably be half a dozen more in there for you to search through."

Draco selected the smaller notebook, adjusted his glasses, and read through the table of contents – which he swore to himself must be in Dutch or Russian – and finally settled on a chapter that promised to detail the wonders of Hermione's car's sound system. Draco rubbed at the increasing ache in his forehead as he read about speaker placement and bass and treble adjustment. He was just getting to a section about the six-disc compact disc player when he had to put the book down. He moaned as the building headache and vertigo washed over him.

"Hermione," he groaned, and covered his face with his hands.

Hermione broke off her singing to glance at her companion, who was looking decidedly gray.

"Oh! Draco, are you sick?"

"In my professional opinion, I think it would be best if you let me out of this car so I can throw up as soon as possible," he rasped.

Hermione looked at their surroundings, looked at her boyfriend, who was holding his head in his hands and rocking back and forth with the Owner's Manual still sitting in his lap, realized what had happened to him, and made a quick phone call.

"Sue, we need to pull over for a moment. Draco's a bit carsick," she said, and within a moment the two cars pulled into a petrol station surrounded by rolling green meadows. Hermione turned off the car and turned to her miserable companion.

"Draco, can you still walk on your hands?" she asked.

"Ugh. Yeh. All right," Draco replied, and unbuckled his seatbelt. Once outside, Draco stripped off his jacket and glasses, took his mobile and wallet out of his pockets, and paced across the parking lot to the soft grass. There he kicked off his trainers and socks, tucked the front of his long-sleeved t-shirt into his jeans, stretched his arms up, then swooped back down to the ground, exchanging his balance from his feet to his hands, and walked away from Hermione's devil car.

"What's he doing?" Sue asked Hermione quietly. She'd gotten out from her own car to check on her friend while her husband leashed Radagast and took him for a quick walk to the bushes.

"Oh, he got carsick, reading." Hermione said, not taking her eyes off Draco's inverted form as he paced quickly up the hill beside the petrol station.

"That's understandable, but why is he upside-down?" Sue asked as Radagast barked and tugged on his leash, trying to encourage his Master to accompany him on a merry squirrel chase.

"Oh, well, in school all the fliers learned to walk on their hands as a way to fight motion sickness. The reverse in blood pressure and balance re-sets their bodies, and of course inversions are excellent for headaches. Harry used to walk on his hands all the time, he had such awful headaches, and he got carsick too. So I told Draco to do the same thing to see if it would help," Hermione said absently as she fought not to drool. Draco's shirt had come untucked from his jeans and his pale, lean torso was now exposed to her, admittedly, hungry eyes.

"Fliers? Was Draco a gymnast?" Sue said in a puzzled voice.

Hermione realized her error and flushed, stuttering, "Oh, yes. Draco and Harry were both… gymnasts. Um, it was quite popular at our school."

"Well he certainly has good balance, and my, he must be strong to be able to maintain THAT," Sue nudged Hermione as they watched Draco, now at the top of a rise, shift to just one hand so that he could rub his forehead.

"Yes, yes he is," Hermione said quietly. Her heart was pounding as she observed Draco. She wanted him. That much she was very, very certain of. But it had only been a week, surely they needed to… wait? Seeing him come undone in her hands last night though… Hermione shivered.

Draco rubbed his forehead as he looked around the green fields that stretched as far as he could see. It was strange, as his headache and nausea faded, he had this pervasive sense that he was running late for an appointment and really needed to HURRY and get back – and then his senses cleared. Draco sniffed. So, so familiar. Apples, grass, the heavy scent of wet hay fields, and… tea olives…

That sense of rushed lateness swept at him again, and suddenly Draco was in a panic. Oh no! He dropped back to his feet and looked around wildly, but could see nothing besides rolling hills, the petrol station, the two cars, and his lovely girlfriend standing next to them chatting with her friend. His Muggle girlfriend. He took off back down the hill towards the car, stopping only to snatch up his shoes and socks.

"Sorry all, time to go, yes?" Draco said as he stopped in front of the ladies to push his feet into his trainers.

"Feeling better, Draco? You know, Shaun gets sick too if he reads in the car. It can really spoil a trip," Sue said helpfully as she watched her husband load Radagast into their station wagon.

"Um, yes. Well, I won't be doing that again, I assure you. Now, we should head out, yes? A long drive still ahead, isn't it?" Draco said hopefully as he tugged on Hermione's arm to steer her towards the open driver's side door.

"All right, Draco?" Shaun called out.

"Yes, thanks for the stop, all set now!" Draco called back as he pushed Hermione into her seat. "Please, Hermione, we have to go now," Draco begged in a whisper when she tried to resist him.

"Draco what's wrong?" Hermione asked, but Draco took her face in his hands and kissed her roughly. He released her mouth and said, "please," once more. Then he shut her car door and ran around to his own door to climb in as Hermione started the car again.

"Draco, tell me what's wrong!" Hermione demanded as they followed the Frasers back onto the motorway. Draco was looking over his shoulder behind them, and then out the windshield, and even through the sunroof at the sky above.

"Hermione, where are we?" Draco asked quietly as he stared hard into the forest that had sprung up around them.

"Um, about fifteen minutes north of Salisbury, I think. Why?"

"And that's in Wiltshire, yeh?" Draco said as he glared out the sunroof again.

"Yes. Why – oh! Draco, what did you see?"

"I didn't SEE anything, Hermione. Muggles can't see it, but the wards stopped me at the top of the rise back there, and I could smell it. The apple orchard and my Mother's tea olives. Gods, who knows who could have seen us!" Draco was getting more agitated by the second.

"Draco, calm down. Even if anyone did see us, we're just Muggles now, remember? I doubt you set off the wards without a magical signature, even though you still are a Malfoy. And you and I look and dress so differently now than we did before… I'm sure that even if someone had been standing beyond the wards watching you, they wouldn't have recognized you."

It took several minutes of soothing conversation on Hermione's part to get Draco to settle back into his seat, but eventually the passage of time and the change of scenery around them enabled Draco to relax. They drove on through the morning light towards the rising hills of the Cotswolds, leaving Draco's anxiety behind them with the invisible eyes of Malfoy Manor.

/…../

The Inn that Hermione and Draco were staying at was also accommodating Hermione's band mates as well as several other out-of-town members of the wedding party. Draco pulled their overnight bags and Hermione's gig-bag out of the boot and gently closed the lid while Hermione retrieved their garment bags from the back seat. Hermione got them checked in as Draco stood out of the lawn with Shaun and the fairy girls, who begged him to walk on his hands again. As soon as Draco complied with their request, however, Radagast pounced, knocking him over.

"Oof! Watch out you great, four-legged, poor excuse for a wizard!" he exclaimed, and then laughed out loud along with Shaun as Ellie and Rosie tackled Draco, jumping on his legs and stomach as Radagast tried valiantly to lick his face.

Hermione walked out to the lawn to find her sexy as hell boyfriend spread-eagled in the grass beneath two four year olds and a brown, furry mountain.

"Stop drooling, Hermione. People might start to think you're in love with the boy," Sue stage-whispered next to her. Hermione jumped guiltily.

"Oh, Sue! You startled me!" she gasped, putting a hand over her speeding heart.

"So, one room, one bed, eh? I take it Draco's staying in your room?" Sue asked slyly as Hermione blushed red.

"Oh it's not like… like THAT, Sue. Not yet, anyway. I mean we're not… I mean yes we sleep together – um, but we're not SLEEPING together. Not yet, I mean. We're waiting – stop laughing Sue, it's not funny!" Hermione stuttered as her friend basked in Hermione's embarrassment.

/…../

Hermione had taken an honest-to-goodness two hour bath. Draco thought he'd have lost his mind with boredom if she hadn't conceded to let him into the spacious bathroom while she soaked in scented bubbles. In retrospect it was probably a terrible idea, because Hermione let him wash her back and scrub and rinse her hair. The sight of Hermione's sodden dark hair tangled over one shoulder while he stroked down her pale back felt like it might be permanently etched into his brain. Her delicate, palm-sized Phoenix tattoo that was perched between her shoulder blades seemed to shudder as Hermione shook under Draco's massaging hands.

Draco took note of his aching loins even as he took note of the time on the wall clock. Hermione needed to be downstairs in two hours – not nearly enough time to do all the things he desperately wanted to in that big bed fifteen paces away.

"Come on, Little Girl, I need to get changed and you need to get out and get ready. How about I go get us a bottle of wine?"

"All right," Hermione's response was a breathy whisper. Her eyes locked with his, and Draco swore she was begging him to join her in the bath, naked and hidden and warm under all those layers of bubbles…

"Huh-uh… Um. Hmm… Hermione, stop looking at me like that," Draco begged as he rubbed his hands through his hair in agitation. He was trying desperately not to think about last night, when her soft little hands had-

"What sounds good to you? White, dry and chilled or warm, red and sweet?" Draco asked.

Hermione cocked her head to the side, and her wet hair shifted back to give him a clear view of the curve of her breast. Draco spun around and grabbed the door handle. He needed. What?

He.

Needed.

Fuck!

"How about chilled, white, and bubbly?" Hermione suggested as he opened the door to escape her siren's call.

"Champagne?"

"Why not?"

"Any preference?" Draco asked. He heard her chuff of sarcasm.

"No Draco. It's safe to say I have no preference. Haven't really had the time to cultivate my wine snobbery yet."

Draco smirked and popped his head back in the bathroom door.

"Not to worry, my dear. I was bred for just such an occasion." He heard Hermione laugh before he grabbed the room key and headed down to talk to the Inn Keeper about their wine cellar.

Half an hour later Draco was one bottle of fifteen-year-old Brut and two flutes wealthier as he re-entered their suite. Hermione was seated at the vanity in the bedroom. She had on a fluffy white robe that covered her from ankle to chin, and she was methodically drying her hair section by section with an enormous round brush and a very noisy hand-held machine. It sounded rather like his vacuum cleaner, but it seemed to be blowing her hair around rather than sucking it up. She turned the machine off as soon as she saw his countenance in the vanity mirror.

"Success?" she asked.

Draco smirked and held up the bottle and two glasses. "Oh yes," he replied. "The triumphant hunter returns."

"My hero," she giggled, then squealed as he closed in and lifted her heavy hair off her neck, holding the cold bottle to her overheated skin.

"You look a little flushed, my dear," he said, grinning as she squirmed.

"Don't flatter yourself too much, Lord Malfoy. I've been sitting under that hair dryer for twenty minutes," she said, fanning her flushed face with her hands. Draco expertly popped the cork on the champagne and poured the glasses, handing her one. She toasted him silently in thanks and took a sip as she turned back to finish brushing out her hair.

Draco took the opportunity of her turned back to fish around in his pocket. Then he lifted her hair again to slip something around her neck.

Hermione looked down as she felt something cool and metal drop to rest just above her heart. It was a locket! A simply and beautifully crafted gold locket with her initials engraved across the front. Draco reached around to prize it gently from her fingers, and delicately popped the clasp. There were four frames inside, all empty, waiting to be filled.

"Hermione, I thought maybe you could carry your memories with you. Love and miss them properly, you know? That way you can share them, and you don't have to drown in secrets," he said quietly. Draco looked up to meet her eyes in the mirror. She had tears shining in her eyes, but she was smiling from ear to ear.  
"Thank you, Draco," she whispered. Then she turned around on her stool and reached up to pull his face down to hers.

"I love it," she whispered against his mouth, then kissed him softly.

Draco knelt before her, slipping his hands under her robe and running his fingers up her silk clad knees as he deepened the kiss. His hands slid up on their own, and soon encountered the lace edge of her stockings and the clasps of her garters-

"Fucking Hell," he broke away from Hermione's mouth to look at what his fingertips had just discovered.  
"Merlin, Little Girl, what are you trying to DO to me?" he groaned as he stroked at the borders of her stockings, where silk and lace met the softest of flesh. Her skin looked pale as milk compared to the nude shade of her stockings, offset by the pale pink of the garters.

"It wasn't entirely my idea, but my dress required it. Sue picked it out," Hermione whispered as she shifted back to stand up. Boldly she parted her robe and dropped the sash on the floor. Hermione felt empowered as she stood there, but she hadn't been able to resist the golden opportunity she'd been presented with. She had Draco Malfoy on his knees, literally and figuratively. She fingered the locket he'd given her, and felt scratching on the back side. She quickly flipped it over and looked.

'To the most beautiful Little Girl in the world. DAM.' She repeated the engraving, but instead of pronouncing each letter of his initials, she read it as a whole word.

Draco chuckled. "My thoughts exactly," he said. Hermione loomed over him in a simple, pale pink corset, matching knickers and garter set. To hell with the wedding, she wasn't going anywhere tonight.

"Hermione, I-" he gulped as he reached out to touch her, but was cut off by a knock at the suite door.

"Hermione?" Sue's voice could be heard out in the hallway. Draco's head snapped up, and Hermione cursed quietly.

"Sue offered to help me put my makeup on. I'm not very good at it," Hermione said wistfully as Draco stood, frowning slightly.

"I'm going to go hide in the bath and get ready, then. I'm not fit for company, and that damned four-legged wizard drooled on my head," Draco sighed, and picked up his garment bag from the bed. He disappeared into the bath as Hermione tied her robe shut, then walked over to let in her friend.

/…../

Draco could no longer remember the last time he'd taken a shower without having to masturbate before he was done. Now, freshly burdened with images of Hermione… He hissed as his orgasm swept through him, taking the edge off his lust so he could, hopefully, function for the rest of the evening.

Tonight though, when he and Hermione got back to their room… Well, suffice to say Draco knew he wouldn't regret making love to Hermione. As for her regrets, well, he'd simply have to behave so that she wouldn't regret it. Ever.

Draco was still looking for his cufflinks fifteen minutes later when he heard womanly giggling on the other side of the bathroom door. Well, he certainly felt more in control, he could use a refill on his champagne, and maybe Hermione knew where his cufflinks were.

"Hey, Love, have you seen my cufflinks?" he asked as he opened the bathroom door.

Hermione and Sue were interrupted by Draco's sudden appearance. His hair was still slightly wet, and he was buttoning the top buttons of his cream colored dress shirt. Draco had chosen to wear a fitted navy blue suit, and he carried his jacket over one arm.

'Good God in Heaven!' Hermione thought. Sue giggled at Hermione's unfocused gaze, and Draco looked up to see his Hermione, _with makeup on, _staring at him with her mouth half-open.

He grinned down at his girlfriend. "Like what you see?" Then he swooped down to kiss her on the cheek when she blushed adorably.

/…../

Pushing his glasses in place to peer at the key-fob, Draco pushed the button to re-lock the car doors. His missing cufflinks were, as Hermione had predicted, in the cup holder right where he'd deposited them earlier along with his wallet and mobile. He shrugged into his jacket as he walked back up the path to the Inn. Hermione had said she'd meet him down here, and Draco didn't honestly think it would be safe to go back up to the room, knowing Sue had gone and Hermione was wearing those… Well, Draco was seriously considering changing his favorite color from blue to light pink.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't 'Mione's little Playboy," a sneering voice said from a nearby bench.

To Be Continued.

Author's Note: I know the hand-walking thing is probably not biologically useful for motion sickness. But human's also don't fly on broomsticks. Just suspend your disbelief and enjoy the show, eh?

ajc


	14. Ch 14 A Lovely Day for a Wedding

**Author's Note: I own no person, no place, no thing – except the plot! If you recognize it, it probably belongs to Ms. Rowling or some other awesome super-human**.

**P.S. Don't know if you're interested or not, but I listened to one particular song over and over again as I was writing this chapter to help me keep in focus. The Civil Wars: 'I've Got this Friend' from their 2013 Unplugged album. ajc**

**Chapter 14 A Lovely Day For A Wedding**

_"Well, well, well, if it isn't 'Mione's little Playboy," a sneering voice said from a nearby bench._

In his entire, admittedly, short life, Draco couldn't remember being so highly amused by a presumed insult. Playboy? Hermione's Playboy? Honestly? Draco stopped walking and slowly turned to address Sutton, who sat casually on a bench, smoking a noxious cigarette and glaring at Draco.

"Something I can do for you, Mr. Sutton?" Draco drawled blandly. He was interested to see what this… yes, wanker really was the best description for Sutton… tool worked too, as did that lovely Americanism, cock-sucker… had to say to him, in public and at a wedding venue. Good breeding and manners had obviously not been huge factors in Sutton's upbringing.

"Yeh, you can get the Hell out of here, Rich-Boy. You think you can just waltz in and pay off a good girl like 'Mione for the pleasure of her company?" Sutton spat, and rose to stalk over to Draco. It was then that Draco realized the man before him was more than a little intoxicated, but still – pay Hermione for her company? Was this about the locket?

"Mr. Sutton, I don't think Hermione would go for such a small sum of money as the price of a locket, but thank you for your drunken concern in her ability to make her own decisions so far as to who she wants to spend time with," Draco said slowly, trying to contain his mirth.

"You think it's funny, Rich-Boy? You're trying to take advantage of a sweet, innocent God-fearing girl, and I won't stand for it! You think buying her that fancy car justifies disgracing her in front of her friends like this? You make me SICK!" Sutton's face contorted in outrage as he stood shaking in front of a still calm Draco. Draco finally understood what was bothering Sutton so badly.

The idiot thought Draco had bought Hermione's car for her.

Not that Draco was shocked by the idea, honestly it was similar to what his father and his associates did with their mistresses back in the day, but that Sutton thought Hermione was capable of being bought, or that Draco was employing her like a prostitute, was outrageously insulting.

"Mr. Sutton, you don't actually know Hermione very well do you?" Draco asked quietly.

"I know her well enough to know she shouldn't be used by the likes of you," Sutton seethed.

Draco sighed. "Mr. Sutton, did you know that Hermione had three ribs broken last Spring?" he asked.

"Wha- No. What does that have to do with anything?"

"And that your little stunt on Sunday hurt her terribly when you lifted her up and squeezed her without her permission?" Sutton shook his head, but Draco could see that it wasn't in chagrin, it was in obstination. The man honestly didn't seem to be listening to Draco at all.

"I didn't think so. Because you don't know Hermione. At all. Now you listen to me, Mr. Sutton, because I am about to tell you something vitally important to your future. Hermione is a highly intelligent and resourceful woman, and she is also very observant. She knows what you want from her, and she does not reciprocate your interest. Take this very overt cue from me, and leave her alone. Do not touch her again, or you will get your hands broken." Draco tucked his hands into his trouser pockets as he spoke, keeping his pose casual even as his blood pressure rose.

"Are you fucking threatening me, Rich-Boy? Because I think I can take you," Sutton snarled as he rose to his full height, which, while a couple of inches taller than Draco, was offset by his soft belly and weak shoulders.

Draco scoffed inwardly. This bumbling oaf was about as threatening as an overstuffed, angry, teddy-bear. "Mr. Sutton, I didn't say I would be the one breaking your hands. If you touch Hermione again, she'll take care of that herself. She doesn't need my help on that count," Draco said coldly, and smirked at Hermione's band mate.

"Wha- Oi, just who the fuck do you think you are?!" Sutton roared in anger

"Ah, you hadn't heard? Draco Malfoy, at your service," Draco said in his most condescending voice and gave the man a sweeping, insolent, bow.

"Why you stupid little prick! I'm gonna-" Sutton's tirade was cut off when Renny suddenly rounded a corner, shouting "Sutton! What the devil are you DOING?"

Sutton whirled around at the sound of Renny's approach. "What the hell do you think I'm doing?! I'm getting ready to kick little Rich-Boy's arse for screwing around with our 'Mione and treating her like a common whore! That fucking car-"

"Sutton, I think that's about enough! It's none of your bloody business who Hermione wants to spend her free time with, just like it's none of your bloody business what Draco spends his money on!" Renny shouted at his belligerent band mate, and grabbed his arm to drag him back from Draco.

"Oh for Merlin's sake, I didn't buy that bloody car! Hermione bought it!" Draco yelled in disgust, but his voice was drowned out by Sue, who suddenly appeared with her husband.

"Jonah Sutton, that is enough! Are you drunk? The wedding starts in an hour, and you're out here threatening Hermione's boyfriend? How dare you!"

Draco felt a small hand wrap around his elbow, and cocked his head down to gaze at Hermione, who'd been standing hidden in the entranceway to the Inn for the bulk of his confrontation with Sutton.

"Enjoy the show, Love?" he asked.

"Very entertaining. I especially liked the part about my being a sweet, innocent, God-fearing girl whose honor you're besmirching," Hermione said archly.

"Ah yes, I enjoyed that as well. But I don't think Sutton used besmirch, too complex for him, most likely. I however, do so love that word. Besmirch. Sounds so naughty," Draco said as he lifted her arm to kiss the inside of her wrist, then pulled back from Hermione to examine her, finally fully dressed and ready to walk down to the venue. His heart nearly stopped.

Hermione had swept her hair back from her face with several well placed clips, but left it hanging long and wavy down her back. Her sleeveless, wine red brocade dress hugged her chest and waist snugly, then flared out in a graceful circle that stopped just at her knees. While she had on sensible black pumps to compensate for comfort, the slight lift complimented her lovely calves perfectly. Even with the unusually heavy eye makeup and deep wine colored lipstick, Hermione's gentle, graceful beauty punched a hole in Draco's chest and left him unable to catch his breath. He lifted one shaking hand slowly to her cheek, drawing it across her skin until he met her hairline, and gently dragged his fingers downward to the curve of her collarbone. He touched the gold locket resting at the top of the swell of her breasts, marveling at his own amazing luck.

"Gods, you're beautiful," he whispered.

Hermione blushed happily.

"You're looking quite dashing yourself, Mr. Malfoy," she said as she ran her hands up the lapels of his jacket.

"Oh, I haven't put my tie on yet, have I? Can't have the effect ruined by a missing tie, now can we?" Draco fumbled around in his pocket, pushing past the small silver object hidden there to extract his tie. Hermione stopped him though.

"No, Draco. I like this, really," she said as she slid her fingers along his open collar. Draco shivered at the touch, and caught her hand in his as it slid down his chest to rest over his heart.

"Really? But it's a wedding, wouldn't that be inappropriate?" Draco asked. Hermione was dressed more formally than he was at this point, something which didn't happen very often.

"No, it's all right. I think you'll find that most of the men, outside the wedding party and immediate family, aren't wearing ties, or suits for that matter. You look nice, Draco. Thank you for coming with me. And, for what it's worth, I'm sorry about Sutton," she said quietly.

Draco snorted. "Little Girl, I'm sorry you had to hear your band mate thumping his chest and acting like a centaur in rut season. Honestly, I'm starting to wonder if that wanker's related to… well, to other wanker's I've met before."

"Like Ron?" Hermione asked cheekily.

Draco grinned down at the glorious incarnation that was his best friend and girlfriend.

"Exactly like Ron. You know, I think I noticed a bit of ginger in Sutton's ponytail, don't you agree?"

Hermione laughed, and freed her hand from Draco's to wrap her arms around his waist.

"It's time to walk down, would you like to join me or are you staying up here?" she asked as she rested her head against his chest.

"Definitely joining you. Shaun asked me earlier if I'd help Sue watch over the fairy girls while you lot get set up. Apparently they're quite enamored with me," Draco said casually as he turned Hermione so that she could take his arm.

"Well that's to be expected. After all, you are young, brilliant, incredibly good looking, and ridiculously wealthy. What's not to like?" Hermione asked brightly as they started down the path.

"You forgot one thing, Little Girl. My favorite part, really," Draco said as he pulled her to a temporary stop.

"What's that?" Hermione asked, smiling up at him.

Draco looked down into her shining eyes, and whispered, "I'm all yours." Then he kissed her softly, under the setting sun and the shade of the red and gold trees that dotted the walkway.

Hermione sighed against Draco's mouth as he lightened the pressure of his lips on hers.

"Draco, you're going to end up wearing my lipstick," she said softly.

"Well that would certainly make a memorable impression," Draco said, then snapped his fingers as he remembered the item in his pocket next to his tie.

"Speaking of memorable, Love, I have something else for you," Draco said as he extracted the silver rectangle and held it out for Hermione's confused perusal. She accepted it, and rolled it over and over in her fingers. Finally she looked up at him.

"It's a camera," she said.

"Yes, my brilliant one, it is. This," he tapped her locket, "is for your old memories. And this" he wrapped his hand around her hand holding the camera, "is for recording new ones. Hopefully with me, of course. I'm highly photogenic you know," he said as he winked at her.

Hermione beamed at him. "Draco Malfoy, you are the sweetest, kindest, most considerate, and thoughtful man I have ever met in my entire life." She wrapped her arms around him and then laughed as he stiffened in faux outrage.

"Hermione Granger, don't ever say that out loud again! You'll ruin my well earned reputation as a womanizing rogue out to buy my way into your delectable pink knickers," Draco growled into her hair.

Hermione's loud laughter could be heard from the Inn all the way to the party field where her band mates were setting up their instruments and waiting for their violinist to appear.

/…../

In the twilight of one of the last beautiful days of Autumn, Draco witnessed his first Muggle wedding ceremony. Yes, there seemed to be some similarities with Wizarding weddings, in that an authority commanded vows at the couple and forced them to repeat various asinine sentiments to each other, but the whole thing lacked in the… well, the _magic_ of a Wizarding ceremony. Draco rolled his eyes at his internal monologue. But seriously, without the magical bonding, the vows were as good as useless, and entirely easy for Muggles to break should they change their minds about each other later on in their lives together. The pastor, Michael, pronounced Mordecai Renton, Jr. and Belinda Smyth to be man and wife, and declared that young Renton could kiss his bride. Everyone around Draco burst into applause, and he released Hermione's hand so they could in with the crowd. He looked down at her when he heard her sniffle, and was slightly startled to see that Hermione was crying.

"What's wrong, Little Girl? I thought these were supposed to be happy events?" Draco leaned in to whisper as the newlyweds trotted happily down the aisle between the rows of outdoor seats under a hail of tiny white bits that various attendees threw at the couple.

Hermione smiled up at Draco. "It is a happy event, silly. I just love happy endings. You know, their story is a bit like ours. They've known each other their whole lives, grew up as neighbors, but they hated each other tremendously until they were at University. She got partnered up with him on some Community Service project, and _voila!_ They fell in love. Sunshine, roses, happy ever after. Nice, eh?"

Draco watched Hermione chat happily up at him with her tears drying on her face, and suddenly became very warm and very confused. Love. He called her Love all the time now, but love in itself as an emotion one had for another person? Draco didn't think he'd ever been in love before. He never met the right kind of girl when he was younger, and of course there hadn't been time for something as frivolous as love during the War. Draco decided that he really needed to take some time by himself to sort out his overwhelming desire for Hermione, and categorize it accordingly with his admiration of her and his trust in her, to see if this warm and fuzzy, almost innocent, childlike feeling in his chest could be something like love. Hermione was a girl worth loving. The question was really was he capable of truly loving her, and could she ever love him in return?

But there was no time for such whimsical self-analysis, because Hermione was dragging him away from the seats and towards the tent and stage where she and the band were going to play for the wedding party and their guests.

/…../

Hermione and her companions played for the wedding party for an hour before they were able to take a break to sit down and dine with Draco, Sue and the girls. In that time, Draco had engaged in an entire hour of princess-dancing with Ellie and Rosie. Hermione hadn't been able to drag her eyes away from Draco as he spun Rosie in his arms near the back of the dance floor. When did Draco Malfoy become so good with children, especially little girls? She thought back to the first day Draco had met Ellie and Rosie. Even from the get-go, he'd met them at their level and engaged them as contemporaries, not as an adult to a child. Rosie's shrieks of laughter could be heard over the cacophony of laughing, dancing couples that separated the stage from the tiny dancers and Hermione's boyfriend.

Hermione's boyfriend. Draco was so different than he was in school or in the Order. Hermione had watched in surprise when Sutton blew up at Draco, shocked more that Draco didn't tear the man apart, than at Sutton's outrageous behavior. Sixteen year old Draco would have eviscerated Sutton, but Hermione's Draco hadn't even raised his voice – well except for when he denied purchasing her car. That idea was honestly just so ridiculous it was laughable.

Hermione didn't know what Renny and Shaun had said to Sutton to get him to behave for the set this evening, but the man had left her alone. It was insane, really. Sutton barely ever spoke to her, yet he had this idea of her in his head, and was obviously threatened by Draco's presence here. She could feel Sutton's eyes on her now, even as she watched Draco dancing, bent over nearly in half so he could twirl Ellie around and around as her twin and Mother clapped.

This situation with Sutton was a simmering cauldron nearly ready to boil over, and Hermione hoped for all of her friends' sake that she and Draco wouldn't have an audience when Sutton finally did make a move.

/…../

Much later in the evening, after several champagne toasts and formal dances had been dispensed with, Hermione, Renny and Shaun found themselves besieged by many silly song requests, and, in the spirit of wedding camaraderie, the story-telling and funny music began. Hermione was standing next to Draco near the dance floor when Shaun thumped the microphone to get everyone's attention.

"If I could say a few words, I'd like to tell you all a story about our newlyweds here," Shaun said into the microphone as young Renton and his bride approached the stage.

"So, I'd like to tell you all about the time when young Renton called me to tell me he'd fallen in love," Shaun grinned and held out his champagne glass to the couple, and everyone laughed when young Renton paled and waved his hands dramatically in a frantic and obvious NO gesture.

"So, anyhoo, I knew young Renton had gone out with Lindy a few times, but then one day he calls me and says, 'Shaun, mate, my rugby career is over. The coach has set me out for the next three weeks.'

'Why is that?' I say, as Renton was always a grand player, I couldn't see his coach wanting him out for so long.

'Well,' he says, 'Lindy came to watch my last game, and I couldn't concentrate on anything with her there. I just couldn't stop looking at her, she was wearing one of my old jersey's, you know, and I accidently scored to the other team's goal.'

'Oi, that's bad news mate,' I say. 'But surely that was no reason for the Coach to put you out for three weeks.'

'Shaun,' he says, all desperate like, 'I did it three bloody times! I thought my team mates were going to string me up right there on the field!'

'Blimey,' I says, 'No wonder why your coach is cheesed off at you.'

'It gets worse,' he says with this sad moan like a bloke bleeding his last drop, 'Lindy came running out onto the field at the end of the game like it was some bloody championship and gave me this huge hug and started going on and on about how brilliantly I played and how she was so amazed that I scored all those times. And I realized something,' young Renton says.

'What's that?' I ask.

'This girl knows absolutely nothing about rugby!' he says." Shaun paused dramatically while the audience bellowed in laughter and young Renton hung his head in shame.

"So we laugh for a few minutes, and then he says all serious like, 'Shaun, what's so bad is I don't even care. I think I'm in love, mate. I can't think about anything except her and how good it feels to be around her.'"

"You know, that was four years ago, and despite the end of young Renton's rugby career, we've made it to this fine and glorious day. And, you know, I can still relate. When you meet that one girl that you're meant to love for the rest of your life, everything else around you kind of goes to Hell. Your brain turns to mash and you can't breathe normal when she's around, and you find yourself saying the most inane waffle. When my Susie and I started going together, I spent all these nights memorizing poetry, instead of studying for my exams, so I could woo her all romantic-like – but I never could get the bollocks enough to get the words out. She'd just smile at me with those pretty green eyes and I'd just turn into a quivering mass of pudding."

Everyone in the crowd laughed good-naturedly, and Hermione saw Sue flush as all eyes found her, sitting in the grass on a large blanket with her sleepy girls tucked under each arm.

Draco listened very carefully to Shaun's words from the stage, and wondered again at the strange, innocent warmth that crept up over him and stole his senses whenever he thought about Hermione.

"So Renny and I learned a fun little song by an American group named Diamond Rio for all you blokes out there that have suffered or are currently suffering from the mental deficiency that comes with falling in love with the perfect girl. Cheers, young Renton and Lindy!"

Hermione felt Draco tug on her hand as the strains of an American country song floated around them, and looked up at her companion.

"Come on, Little Girl. You haven't danced with me yet tonight," Draco said, and pulled her towards the laughing, swaying couples.

"I just assumed your feet were tired from dancing with your other girlfriends," Hermione said cheekily as Draco put one hand on her waist and used his other one to draw one of hers up to rest over his heart. Hermione hooked her free hand onto the back of his neck, and he pulled her into a lazy, half-sway, half-waltz under the stars. Hermione was slightly alarmed when she realized Shaun and Renny were singing, _Beautiful Mess, _a rather silly song about a man falling in love, and hoped desperately Draco wasn't listening to the words. She didn't want him to think that she'd told Sue what he'd said the other night about getting lost on the way to work or pouring salt instead of sugar into his coffee – even though she had told Sue, because it had been so deliciously funny and flattering…

Draco decided he wasn't a particular fan of American country music. He enjoyed dancing with his Hermione, no doubt, but the lyrics were absolutely absurd and asinine…

_"This morning I put salt in my coffee_

_I put my shoes on the wrong feet_

_Losing my mind I swear_

_You might be the death of me_

_But I don't care"_

Draco looked down at Hermione, stunned, took in her guilty expression, and threw his head back and laughed.

/…../

A few more toasts and songs later, Hermione was pushed back onto the stage by a beseeching Lindy, who was desperate to get back at her new husband for the embarrassing rugby story. Draco sat at one of the tables next to Shaun and Sue, who'd taken off her shoes and kicked up her champagne consumption now that she'd gotten their girls off to bed.

Hermione waved at everyone with her champagne glass and called a "halloooo" into the microphone to get everyone's attention. Draco was amused to see that his girlfriend was a little tipsy.

"So, Lindy has made a special request of me this evening, and who am I to deny her the privilege of sharing with all you fine people the first song that young Renton ever sang to her? I admit I'm a little embarrassed to be doing this, but here we go. Oh, and Draco, I am so sorry you have to see this. But if you make fun of me, you will live to regret it." And with that, Hermione, all alone on the stage, began to sing.

_"Why do birds suddenly appear_

_Every time you are near?_

_Just like me, they long to be_

_Close to you" _

Draco watched the bride holding her stomach as she laughed at her new husband's face, which had turned puce with emasculated embarrassment. He grinned to himself as he watched Hermione's face turn a similar color as she sang on, but was surprised when a good deal of the audience, including Sue and Shaun, took up the chorus.

_"On the day that you were born the angels got together_

_And decided to create a dream come true"_

Everyone was laughing and singing after that, and Draco was amused to see the groom good-naturedly grab his new wife's hand and kneel before her to sing along with Hermione. When she came down from the stage a few moments later to the loudest applause and cheers of the entire evening, Renny turned on some music to play through the speakers so that people could keep dancing. Hermione and her band mates were done for the night.

Hermione plopped ungracefully into the chair next to Draco and groaned.

"I can't believe I had to sing that! Shaun I should have you beaten for abandoning me!" she said as she kicked her pumps off and curled her exhausted toes. Draco watched her for a moment, then leaned back and patted his lap while pointing at her feet. Hermione looked at him quizzically, but he just rolled his eyes and leaned down to pull her feet into his lap. She squeaked, then moaned in gratitude as Draco rubbed the soreness out of the balls of her feet.

"Sooo…" Draco said slowly, and a smirk crept up his face as he watched Hermione turn to look at him.

"I had no idea you wrote me a song, Hermione. Very flattering it was, but for the eye color. My eyes are gray, not blue," Draco said gravely as Sue and Shaun chortled next to him. Hermione blew out an exasperated breath and then, carefully, leaned in and punched Draco in the shoulder.

"You are an arse," she said, then squealed as Draco ran his thumb up the center of her foot, which tickled tremendously. Sue picked up Hermione's new camera, as she had done often throughout the evening, and snapped a few pictures of the two as they struggled and flirted with each other like a couple of school children. Finally Hermione gave in, swearing that Draco was not an arse, but "a devilishly handsome and charming man! Now stop tickling me, you arse!"

With that, Shaun regaled Draco and Hermione with the tale of how he'd managed to get his nose broken when he'd made the terrible error of trying to tickle Sue's feet when they'd been dating. Renny, his son, and new daughter-in-law wandered over, and soon stories of painful and embarrassing accidents that can only happen when courting were being shared. Draco confessed about nearly falling off the ladder at the Library, and called out Sue and Hermione about his 'salted coffee' incident, which made the other men at the table laugh all the harder.

"Come now, Hermione. Don't tell me you have nothing to contribute to this conversation!" Sue said mischievously. Hermione glowered at her, then, noticing all eyes on her, sniffed disdainfully and said, "Draco, we'll need to call a locksmith to open your flat when we get back."

"Wait, what? Why? Oh bollocks, I left my keys on your kitchen counter! But, Hermione, why can't I just get my keys back from you?" Draco asked, puzzled.

Hermione flushed then, and said primly, "Because, unfortunately, my keys are sitting next to yours."

The entire group laughed appreciatively at her embarrassment, and finally even Hermione joined in. The happy group chatted amiably as the night got later and later, and the champagne flowed freely.

Sometime after midnight had come and gone, Draco felt Hermione snore gently on his shoulder. She'd been curled up in his lap like a kitten for more than an hour, and he decided that their night must come to an end.

"Well, all, I think it's time I get this Little Girl off to bed. I'll let her know that we're going to meet you in the morning for brunch," Draco said as he curled his arms around her and hoisted her up. Sue, Shaun and Renny were the only ones left at their table, as the newlyweds had left some time before to get their honeymoon started.

"Draco?" Sue asked cautiously.

"Yes?" Draco turned to address Hermione's friend.

"How did Hermione break her ribs last Spring?" she asked quietly.

Draco gave Sue a long, contemplative look, and adjusted Hermione in his arms.

"I didn't say she broke her ribs, I said she had them broken," he said carefully.

Sue took measure of what he'd said, and his tone, and met his eyes with sharp incredulity.

"You're saying someone did it to her."

Draco watched Sue, and she watched him in return.

"She has a bad ankle too, doesn't she? She doesn't run nearly fast enough for as often as she does run, and sometimes I swear she's limping, even though she always brushes me off," Sue said. "Draco, what happened to her?"

Draco sighed. "Sue, there's a lot I can't tell you, out of respect for Hermione's privacy and out of respect for the dead, and because, as the Mu-, er, the saying goes, it's classified information. But I'll tell you lot this because I think you need to understand why it's important that Sutton leaves her alone. Hermione's ribs and ankle were broken when she was strung upside down by her ankle, and whipped and beaten by the same people that killed Potter. I can tell you this freely, because I was strung up right next to her, so it's not solely her story to tell. But I'll tell you this, that was probably the least of what she's been through in the past few years, and I'll be damned if something like that ever happens to her again."

Renny, Shaun and Sue gaped at Draco, who stood there casually holding their friend in his arms as if she weighed no more than a child. He shifted her again in his arms, resting his head briefly against her hair.

"Wait, Draco! How did you get free?" Sue asked as Draco made to turn and leave.

Draco sighed. "Potter saved us," he said. He looked at each of them and said carefully and with complete honesty, "Harry Potter saved us all." Draco nodded goodnight to them, and turned to walk up to the Inn as Hermione slept.

/…../

He watched from the shadows as the blond man strolled casually up the walkway with the pretty, sleeping girl in his arms. That prick had swept in and taken his girl, had threatened him, and had gotten him fired from his band.

It was all HER fault, really.

The little whore.

She'd fucked up his life and hadn't even batted an eyelash at him.

Someone was going to pay for this.

To Be Continued.

Author's Note: Reviews make my day. Follow, favorite, etc… Encouragement is good for the writer's soul, you know! ajc


	15. Chapter 15 Boys Will Be Boys

**Author's Note: I own no person, no place, no thing – except the plot! If you recognize it, it probably belongs to Ms. Rowling or some other awesome super-human**.

**Chapter 15 Boys Will Be Boys**

Hermione woke up in the dark of the bedroom of the Inn that she and Draco were staying at, to the delicious feel of the back of her dress being unzipped.

"Mmmm…" she moaned sleepily, and heard Draco chuckle somewhere behind her. Hermione rolled onto her belly and burrowed her face into the pillow, belatedly remembering that she was wearing makeup, and hoping she didn't ruin the cover. But then Draco pulled her arms through the straps of her dress, and lifted her hips off the bed to guide the dress down her legs. She gasped in delicious anticipation of what Draco might have in mind, and, uninhibited by the generous application of champagne, rose up on her elbows to lift her chest of the bed.

"Untie my corset, please?" she asked him in what she hoped was a seductive, not sleepy, voice.

Draco took in a shaky breath. Hermione's prone form nearly glowed in the moonlight, and he ached to take her, but he knew she was pretty well intoxicated and utterly exhausted. Now was just not the ideal setting for their first time together. When he did make love to her, he wanted her one hundred percent present every step of the way. So, with a determined set to his jaw, Draco untied her corset and pulled it out from under her body, then slid her garter belt and stockings down her legs and off her feet. He stood off the bed and rummaged through her overnight bag for a sleep shirt, and tried very, very hard not to pay attention to the softness of her skin as he tugged the shirt over her head, around her arms, and down her back. She'd started snoring again before he'd pulled the shirt out of her overnight bag. Then Draco untied his dress shoes and pulled his own clothes off. He crawled into the large, soft bed next to his sleeping girlfriend, and pulled her onto her side so he could snuggle in against her. Draco dragged the quilt over their bodies, and soon fell asleep to the rhythm of Hermione's even breaths.

/…../

The first thing Hermione noticed the next morning was the sound of the suite door being unlocked and opened, and a familiar drawling voice saying, "I can't believe you're still hiding under the bed covers, Little Girl. Get up, you lazy thing."

Hermione pulled the quilt off of her head and sat up, squinting against the bright autumnal sunshine pouring in through the windows. Draco was striding towards the bed, with two steaming mugs in his hands and her brand new camera dangling off his wrist. He chuckled as he closed in to hand her one mug.

"Good morning, my little woodland creature. Been nesting, have we?"

Hermione reached up to feel the chaos of her long hair looping and swooping crazily above her head.

"Bollocks," she groaned. "This is a prime and painful example of why I have to braid my hair before I go to sleep. It'll take ages to get this mess out." She accepted the mug of coffee from her boyfriend, who then clambered up onto the bed next to her and settled back into the pillows. He'd obviously already been up and showered for a while, and Hermione started to wonder how long she'd been asleep.

"What time is it?" she asked as she sipped her coffee, pleased to find that Draco had already added the perfect amounts of cream and sugar.

"A bit after eight. I was quite rudely awoken just after six by your band mates and Pastor, who felt it necessary to drag me down to the sitting room for a manly chat about your former band mate, your highly suspicious new car, and the nature of my intentions towards your person. Very entertaining morning, thus far," Draco said companionably as he settled his coffee mug on the bedside table and pulled the camera off his wrist.

"What? Oh no, Draco, I'm so sorry!" Hermione immediately started apologizing, but Draco just waved his hand in the air.

"It's not really a big deal, Love. I could see that conversation coming from the moment I met your friends. It's funny, you know, that there seems to be only two reactions you inspire in men: lust, and protectiveness. I successfully managed to convince them that I'm currently subscribing to the latter, not the former, and I am fairly certain I left them quite ashamed with themselves for thinking you're the type of girl who'd accept the gift of a car from a man she's been dating for a week. So, with that all settled, you and I can go about our merry way, with none the wiser as to my nefarious intentions towards your aforementioned person."

"Ugh, honestly, you boys are so ridiculous-"

"Men, darling, we're men."

"Fine, Draco! You MEN are so ridiculous. I am not some simpering damsel in need of protection! There is no evil dragon about to devour me!" Hermione protested, but was cut off again by Draco's scoff of indignation.

"Hello? What do I look like to you? A pygmy puff? I mean, granted, I agree with you that I am not evil, but on the other two counts you are entirely wrong." Draco smirked at her, and she realized belatedly what she'd said, and giggled.

"Really, Draco, despite my unintentional play on words there, you know perfectly well that I am capable of protecting myself! And besides that, you and I both know that I'm safer now, especially with YOU, than I've been in bloody years!" Hermione said fiercely as she snuggled up against him and rested her head against his shoulder. She heard Draco chuckle again, and looked up to see him extracting some of her wild hair from the stubble on his cheek and chin.

"Agreed, my dear, but who's going to protect the dragon from the damsel's attacking mane?"

Hermione laughed again and reached up to smooth her hair back away from his face. Then she remembered something he'd said, and said, "So I have a former band mate? I take it Shaun and Renny sacked Sutton?"

"Indeed, they talked to him last night after you lot were finished playing, and he left sometime in the night. They mentioned that he's none too pleased with me, not that I care, and that he was fairly clear that he's going to get back at you for losing him his job." Draco rolled his eyes, and Hermione snorted dismissively.

"The idiot was drunk before we even got on the stage last night. I imagine we're more likely to find his car wrapped around a tree than to find him lurking in the shadows around my flat, waiting for me to arrive." Hermione sipped at her coffee and noticed the silver camera lying in Draco's lap. She boldly reached for it, enjoying the feeling of her boyfriend's body tensing up underneath her questing hand.

"Why did you have the camera out? Did you take photos this morning?" she asked, turning the device on to view the pictures.

"No. Fortunately for my lazy, unappreciative girlfriend, Sue noticed it sitting on the table after we'd come up to our room last night, and brought it inside so it wouldn't get ruined. There should be a good bit of photos on there; the woman barely put that thing down last night."

Hermione found the button to view the photos, and Draco brought his head down close to hers to see the images. Within a few moments, she'd flicked through to one of her and Draco, standing together after the wedding ceremony. He was whispering something in her ear, and she had just broken into amused laughter.

"Mmm, I remember that moment. I believe I was mentioning how much I'd like to get you back up to this room and out of that lovely red dress. You did look quite ravishing, by the way," Draco said as he rested his chin on the top of her head.

"Thank you, dear Dragon mine, you clean up very well yourself. It's much more natural on you, though. I look like one of the Stepford Wives. My ribs are actually sore from that damned corset," Hermione grumbled good-naturedly. She advanced forward a few frames, and smiled at the photos of Draco dancing with Rosie and Ellie.

"You're really good with them, Draco. That's a facet of your personality I find very attractive," Hermione said.

"Hermione, how many times do I need to point out to you that everything I do is attractive?" Draco asked as he snuck his hand under the quilt. He ran his fingertips up and down her bare leg, suddenly making Hermione very aware that she was sitting in a large and comfortable bed in nothing but last night's knickers and a loose sleep shirt.

"You know," he said in a low, husky voice, "I had a really good time last night."

Hermione's eyes nearly popped out of her head in response to his innuendo, and she quickly did a mental sweep of her body for signs of any activities she could not remember engaging in. Draco took in her expression and burst into laughter.

"Gods, Granger, do you really think I took advantage of you while you were snoring?"

Hermione's face flushed, and she poked his arm. "You arse, I don't snore."

"Hmm…" he said as he pushed the button on the camera to continue advancing the images. "You do snore, at least when you're exhausted and half-pissed. But don't worry, Love, you snore very adorably."

/…../

Several hours later, Hermione parked her car outside Draco's flat, and waited with him for the building's maintenance supervisor to use his skeleton key to unlock Draco's front door. Within a few moments, they had Hermione's spare keys in hand and were dashing back down the steps towards her car. As they parked in front of Hermione's building and unpacked the car to bring their luggage inside, neither of them noticed the shadowy figure standing against one of the buildings across the street.

/…../

The next couple of weeks passed for Hermione and Draco in a heady mix of anticipation and agony, Heaven and Hell. Heaven was being together, sharing their interests and history. Hell was being together, trying desperately to keep from acting like a couple of randy teenagers for the sake of their developing relationship. They were trying to stick with the One Month Plan, hoping the excitement and raging, hormone induced giddiness that lapped at their nerve endings would die back in that time.

Every morning Draco watched Hermione as she popped a tiny disc of a pill out of a round foil packet of similar pills in various colors, and counted down the days. He'd been thinking about putting in a vacation request to Wanda, because he had a feeling that once he and Hermione finally did get together, it would be days before he'd be interested in coming up for air. Possibly weeks.

In the meantime, Hermione taught Draco the basics of driving, to the point where he was comfortable with taking her car in the mornings to the Library on days she didn't need to go anywhere. In the evenings he would come straight back to her flat, and they'd either make dinner there together, or go out to meet with their growing circle of friends.

Draco was surprised and delighted beyond words to discover that Renny was an avid motorbike enthusiast. Renny, sensing Draco's extreme interest, offered him riding lessons and even consented to help Draco select a motorbike that would best suit his riding style. Hermione was delighted by Draco's childlike enthusiasm and made no protests to his new hobby. She had a feeling riding would be a reasonable substitute for flying, which she knew Draco missed dearly.

On a dreary Tuesday afternoon two weeks after the wedding, Draco drove Hermione's car to the outskirts of town to meet Renny for a riding lesson. Hermione heard her mobile ringing just as she slipped on her running shoes, and walked out to the kitchen to answer.

"Oh good, I'm glad I managed to get you before you left! Ellie's got a sniffle and I just don't want to take her out in this weather, but Shaun's at work until seven tonight," Sue gabbled as one of her girls whined in the background.

"No worries, Sue. You want to meet up tomorrow instead?" Hermione asked as she mentally changed her plans for the afternoon. She really needed to go for a run; cooking and eating with Draco every night was way too much fun, and her belly was getting a distinct roundness from all the indulgence.

"Tomorrow works great! Shaun will be home from work by three, can you meet at four?" Sue asked. Hermione agreed, and gave the girls her love before ringing off. Then she sighed in disappointment. Draco wouldn't be home until seven or so either. Hermione didn't particularly care to run alone, but remembering the giant lasagna she'd assembled for tonight's dinner, she decided to gather up some of her old Gryffindor bravery and duck out onto the Park's running trail alone.

She didn't see the shadowy figure who'd been waiting for her to exit her building, and she didn't notice him follow her along the typical path she strode down as she warmed up her legs. Hermione didn't realize that someone had taken time to notice she ran on a consistent schedule. She had her head firmly in the clouds, daydreaming about Draco and their complete lack of plans for the coming weekend, and that fact that it had been very nearly a month since they'd first gotten together, and that her packet of birth control pills proved irrefutably that within just four days, she would have no more arguments to keep Draco from attacking her and dragging her to their bedroom – and how odd it was that it really was THEIR bedroom now, as he hadn't spent more than a few minutes at his own flat since they'd come home from young Renton and Lindy's wedding.

Maybe she should make a formal request that he move in with her. They'd already made space for his clothing in her closet and bureau, and his toothbrush looked quite happy next to her own. He still had a couple of months left on the lease for his flat, but honestly they didn't need the added space, and it wasn't like they couldn't afford to just go ahead and buy the lease out or break it.

She was so busy making plans for her future with Draco that she didn't notice the very large, very angry man who stepped up behind her just as she rounded a corner that led her trail through a tight copse of trees and thicket. It was a deceitful bit of landscape, green and lush in the daylight, and bright and warm at night when the Park's lights came on. But in the half-darkness of the autumn afternoon, the thickets were dark and impenetrable. The large hands that grabbed her from behind were disappointingly familiar, as was the man's scent.

Sutton.

"Damn," she thought, then "double damn!" when she smelled the chloroform soaked pad in his left hand that he tried to slap over her nose as his right hand pressed a wide strip of tape over her mouth. Hermione rolled her eyes in irritation even as she stopped breathing and let her body go lax in Sutton's arms. He nearly dropped her in surprise, as he hadn't even wrapped his chloroform hand over her nose yet, and was only supporting her weight with the one hand on her mouth.

Hermione's arms rose up to follow her as she slipped down to the ground out of his grip. Sutton growled, "Get back here you fucking whore," and snagged her ponytail roughly, yanking her back up before she could scrabble away from him.

Hermione was completely disgusted now, and beyond furious. How many times was she going to have to fight against men that outweighed her by ten stone just for the privilege of breathing oxygen? Sutton dragged her by her ponytail and her two wrists towards a particularly thick clump of shrubbery, and Hermione saw to her equal dismay and delight that he had hidden away a blanket, some rope, and a roll of tape that probably matched what covered her mouth. At least he was only planning to tie her up and possibly rape her – no knives or other weapons were present. Of course rope and tape made for pretty efficient murder weapons, but Sutton had never struck Hermione as a murderer. A bully, yes. Potentially violent, definitely. But not a killer.

"You fucking think you can come along and act all innocent, you bitch, and you cost me my fucking job, my reputation in the church, and my band. You're a God-damned cock-teasing whore."

Hermione couldn't help but be amused as Sutton railed against her and her whorish ways. Honestly, men were so unoriginal. The best negative description words they could ever come up with to insult a woman were always 'bitch' and 'whore'. If she had a Galleon for every time she'd heard this waffle… well, she'd have a lot of Galleons, to be sure.

How the man had known about this tucked away little hidey-hole in the bushes, probably well-used by snogging teenagers, and how he'd managed to secure chloroform and time her entrance to the foot path to ambush her felt, frankly, a little too well thought-out to be the work of a first-time offender. Sutton was probably more used to seducing drunk or easily impressed college girls, but he'd been too practiced with the palm-full of tape and pad soaked in chloroform. She made a note of this, so she could remember to mention it to the police when they arrived…

She sighed, which, with tape over her mouth, came out through her nose as an exasperated snuffle. The tape simply had to go, as she had a few things to tell Mr. Sutton before she was finished with him.

Sutton dragged her to the center of the spread blanket and forced her down, then stood over her to gloat as he watched her eyes widen in fear.

Hermione's eyes widened in surprise. Was he really going to make this so easy for her? She was totally free, albeit with her mouth taped shut and laying on her back. But she was completely unbound as her attacker stood over her within easy groin-smashing distance. She took in his smirk of triumph, and widened her eyes further in what she hoped was an expression of sheer terror – attackers loved that shite – and then watched in almost boredom as he predictably leaned over to climb on top of her.

As soon as Sutton's weight was primarily shifted towards his hands and not his feet, Hermione shifted her own position, turning from frightened virginal prick-tease to near-fluid warrior in the briefest flash. She rolled to her right and knocked his arm out of her way, then grabbed it as she changed the direction of her roll to slide on top of his back. She flattened him to the ground and nearly wrenched his arm out of its socket in the process. Sutton screamed in pain and rage. Hermione reached up and quickly ripped the tape off of her mouth, then just as quickly reached down and punched him in each kidney, hard. Sutton gasped as his back arched in pain, but his voice was effectively stolen by Hermione's well aimed fist.

"You stupid arse, you think you can just take me for a little non-consensual shag between two non-friends and I'm not going to fight back? You're dumber than you look, Mr. Sutton," Hermione said coldly as she reached over to the rope, then quickly shifted around to tie his feet together. She tucked her fist into his right kidney again when he tried to buck her off his backside.

Sutton gasped again, then spat, "I'm going to fucking kill you, you-" but Hermione cut him off by jabbing her foot into the back of his head.

"Yes, yes, I'm a bitch. Or was it going to be whore this time? Either or, really, Mr. Sutton, is not terribly original. And honestly, you can't kill me. You had plenty of opportunity to do it before I landed you on your belly. I'll bet you didn't even bring a knife!" Hermione watched as he stiffened, and crowed in delight, even as she punched him viciously in each hamstring to force his legs to cramp in agony.

"You did bring a knife! Oh, let me guess! I bet you're so incompetent that it's still in your trouser pocket!" Hermione felt around the outside of the dazed man's trouser pockets, and surely enough found the outline of a rather large pocket knife before she rose up and stepped on the back of his neck with her left foot, and onto his grasping right hand with her right foot.

"I warned you, Mr. Sutton, not to touch me again. Draco so much as begged you to leave me be, but you didn't listen. You think I'm some skittish little kitten you can toy with? You know nothing about me, you miserable wanker. I'm a fucking soldier, and I'll not suffer for the likes of you." And with that, Hermione crushed the bones of his right hand under her heel. Sutton screamed and flailed in agony as she jumped over his prone form, picked up his left arm, and snapped his wrist. Then she kicked him in the head to shut him up, and stood back to assess the damage.

Quite nice really. The whole affair had taken no more than three or so minutes, and she hadn't even gotten dirty, thanks to Sutton's conscientious and quite romantic forethought to bring a blanket. Hermione bent to double-check that the large man was still unconscious, and then popped back out onto the running trail and summoned a good, loud scream.

/…../

Draco was nearly in front of Hermione's building when he saw the police cars, their flashing lights proclaiming, 'Foul Deeds Done Here!' for all to see. Knowing that Hermione should be coming back from her jog with Sue any moment, he quickly parked Hermione's car and made his way across the street, hoping to intercept her as she came up the trailhead. He was pleasantly - or not so pleasantly, depending upon how one looked at it – surprised to see his girlfriend standing with a blue blanket wrapped around her shoulders, talking to a female officer, who seemed to be making notes of what Hermione told her in a small book.

He was also surprised to see two officers supporting a stumbling, whining Jonah Sutton towards a waiting ambulance. While not handcuffed, he was definitely being restrained by the two burly officers. Draco looked closely at the man who he'd last seen several weeks ago, and realized that both of Sutton's hands were swollen, bruised, and definitely broken. Draco's gaze swung automatically back to Hermione, who'd just noticed his arrival. Draco pointed covertly at Sutton, then at Hermione, and raised an eyebrow. Hermione's quick nod of affirmation and her discreet 'OK' hand-signal told Draco everything he needed to know.

"Mr. Sutton!" he called as he paced quickly over to the officers and their prisoner. The officers glared at Draco, who held his hands out in a friendly gesture to them.

"I'm Ms. Granger's boyfriend, I'm not here to cause trouble. I'd actually like to give a statement as soon as possible. You see, I tried to warn Mr. Sutton several weeks ago not to touch Hermione again. Didn't I, Mr. Sutton? I told you she'd break your hands if you did, and now look at you," Draco drawled smoothly, and then stepped back as Jonah Sutton roared in outrage and tried to shake off the restraining officers. He smirked as Sutton was dragged into the ambulance and strapped to a gurney for his trip to hospital, and later, prison.

A small hand worked its way into Draco's open left hand, and he looked down to see his best friend, the most beautiful girl in the world, smirking and waving at the passengers in the back of the ambulance. He leaned down, gathered her in his arms, and snogged her senseless, with the police lights and sirens and chattering officers and neighbors all around them.

To Be Continued.

**Author's Note: So, how are we doing? Please feel free to let me know. Or even better, let me know, AND invite all of your friends to come read/review/favorite/follow. I'm officially obsessed with the numbers. I'm watching them go up as I rub my hands together and laugh like a little kid at Christmas. **

**ajc**


	16. Chapter 16 Anticipation

**Author's Note: I own no person, no place, no thing – except the plot! If you recognize it, it probably belongs to Ms. Rowling or some other awesome super-human**.

**Chapter 16 Anticipation**

The joy of victory was diminished for Draco somewhat as he listened to Hermione and the female officer reviewing her statement concerning Sutton's attack on her. He politely gave his own statement to another officer, then finally pulled Hermione upstairs to her flat. A strange and violent feeling was sweeping through his system, and he was desperate to get her alone so he could find out what the hell had actually happened between Hermione and Sutton.

More accurately, Draco wanted to know how the hell anything had happened between Hermione and Sutton.

Draco flipped through the six locks and punched in the six-digit code on the keypad, and swept inside with Hermione hot on his heels.

Hermione only realized that something was amiss with her boyfriend when he stalked straight to the refrigerator and reached in to pull out a beer. Hermione watched, puzzled, as Draco very uncharacteristically snagged a bottle opener, pulled the top off and poured his beer without looking up or saying a word. He remained silent as he made his way to the windows that overlooked the street they'd just vacated. Draco stood there, staring pensively across the way at the path that led to Hermione's route into the Park.

"Draco? Are you okay?" Hermione asked as she walked quietly up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist. Her heart plummeted when she felt him stiffen at her touch, and she instinctively drew her hands back and stepped away from him.

"What's wrong?" she asked his back in a whisper. Draco was radiating a tension she hadn't seen since the height of the War - but then this tension seemed to be directed towards her –

"Tell me something, Hermione," Draco suddenly said in a quiet, yet stern voice. Hermione felt herself stiffening at his tone, and her defensive hackles rose.

"Yes?" she said evenly. Hermione repeated to herself over and over again that she was not going to fight with Draco, no matter what he was about to hurl at her.

"The first night we went to dinner, and you oh, so merrily reminded me that we needed to practice constant vigilance even out here in the Muggle world, did you think you were above such measures?" Draco's voice was even as he leaned forward to look down at the sidewalk underneath him.

"No, of course not, Draco. I am aware of my surroundings at all times. Today was just an unfortunate accident –"

"How?!" He spun around and cut her off. "How was today an unfortunate accident? I'm really curious Hermione. How does a heavy-footed, lump-arsed prick like Sutton sneak up on a fighter with your experience? How did he manage to get his hands on you? How did you fail to notice that you were being watched?! How-" Draco stalked forward and picked her up roughly by her arms, shoving her against the closest brick column as he pushed his weight into her body. "How in the HELL am I supposed to protect you if you aren't protecting yourself? How in the Hell –" Draco broke off and shuddered as he pushed his forehead against hers, closing his eyes against the confusion and fear on her face.

"He would have taken you, Hermione! He would have ripped your clothes and pushed you down and used you and broken you! And you. Almost. Let him," he growled.

Watching Draco's face as he rested his forehead against her own, Hermione realized the man in front of her saw Sutton's attack on her in an entirely different light than she did, and what he saw, she didn't like. Hermione cringed at the thought that Draco was enormously angry with her. And honestly, she deserved it.

Hubris was her downfall in so many areas of her life, and now, here she was, staring at a man who she'd, just hours before, been daydreaming like a schoolgirl about, while foolishly thinking that no one could or would dare to hurt her out here in Little Whinging. But Draco was absolutely right. She had no shields or wards to protect her like she had as a witch, and Sutton could have easily taken her and broken her. All it would have taken was a knife to her ribs or a stout stick to her head – or a glass bottle like what had happened to Draco – and Hermione wouldn't have stood a chance. She'd have been incapacitated and her entire future would have been over.

Hermione had gotten lucky when she beat him into submission, but she'd lost the confrontation as soon as Sutton laid hands on her.

Hermione's shoulders drooped under the weight of Draco's condemnation. "You're right. And I'm sorry," she said sadly. "I think, well, I think that we won't have to worry about that happening again."

"Why, because Sutton's in jail?" Draco queried harshly.

"No, Draco. Because I won't let my guard down again," she said. Then she squared her shoulders, and looked him in the eyes. "Constant vigilance," she said, then shrank away from her angry boyfriend and turned so he wouldn't see her lip start to tremble. "I'm going to go take a shower, Draco. I'm suddenly not feeling very well," Hermione said quietly so he wouldn't hear her voice wobble, and made her way towards her bedroom.

She opened her bureau and pulled out her most comfortable pajamas: a long sleeved, white flannel nightgown that covered her from collar to toe. It had once been decorated with pink roses, but they'd faded so much in the wash that the pattern was barely noticeable anymore. Hermione buried her face in the flannel and sniffed. The nightgown still smelled like the rose and cedar sachet that had been tucked under it for so long.

The stress, guilt and fear finally overwhelmed her tear ducts as the bathroom filled with steam. Hermione stripped off her clothes and ducked into the shower, counting on the pounding pulse of the shower to camouflage her tears.

/…../

Draco watched Hermione bend under his judgement, and felt like ten different kinds of arsehole, but he honestly didn't know of any better way to deal with her. Hermione's intelligence was mighty to behold, but she was also a damned stubborn woman, and he knew she never would have considered the repercussions of Sutton's attack seriously unless he literally forced them on her. He was surprised she picked up on his intent and acquiesced so quickly…

Draco blew out a sigh of exasperation as he leaned against the windowsill and sipped absently at the Newcastle he'd poured earlier. He wondered how mad she really was at him for speaking to her like that. Maybe she'd gone off to take a shower to pout, but it was also likely that she simply didn't want to be around him. Draco frowned. Maybe she wanted him to leave her alone. He considered the likelihood of that, and wondered if he should just go back to his flat tonight. With another sigh, he walked over to the sink and poured out the last of his beer, then rinsed the glass and plopped it upside down into the dishwasher, then kicked the door shut gently with his foot as he turned to walk to Hermione's bedroom.

He paused at the bathroom door, preparing to knock, when he heard muffled gasping coming from inside. 'What the hell?' he thought, and turned the handle to poke his head inside. His heart dropped to his feet when he saw her in the shower behind the glass door, with her hands over her face to quiet the sobs that shook her body.

"Shit, shit, shit,' he thought as he observed his girlfriend. She'd been perfectly fine earlier, but she obviously wasn't anymore.

He'd done this to her, not Sutton. Draco had been so focused on making her see her mistake that he'd completely disregarded her feelings. He kicked his off his shoes and took his glasses, mobile and wallet out of his pockets, then quietly slipped over to the shower and slid the door open. Hermione's head shot up, and her red-rimmed eyes broke Draco's heart. He stepped in and grasped her gently by the arms to pull her into him.

"Hermione? Love, I'm sorry," he whispered, and wrapped his arms around her startled and shaking body. "I'm so, so sorry for yelling at you. You didn't deserve that. Please don't cry," he begged as he kissed her hair and rocked her in his arms. Suddenly Hermione giggled and pulled her arms up to wrap them firmly around his neck.

"You idiot," she laughed. "I'm not crying because you hurt my feelings. I'm crying because I've had a very stressful afternoon and I HATE being wrong!" She shuddered and giggled against his shoulder, and he froze as he realized how he'd misinterpreted her actions.

"You're not crying because I yelled at you?"

Hermione snorted. "Of course not. I'm not THAT weak Draco. I can take a little criticism. But I AM a girl. Crying's just my body's way of dealing with stress. Besides, you were absolutely right. I was monumentally stupid for not noticing Sutton before he got his hands on me, and it just kills me that I was so smug and proud about how easily I beat him."

"Oh thank God!" he cried. "I was starting to think I'd gone and buggered everything up." He rested his head on hers, then jerked up as water flowed straight into his ear. Draco shook his head to clear out the water, then looked down at his girlfriend. Hermione was grinning sheepishly up at him.

"So, I take it you're not angry with me then? I did deserve it Draco. I wasn't thinking right-"

"Well, neither was I. Yes, we needed to have that talk, but I shouldn't have yelled at you like that. You're my best friend, Little Girl. I should have known your ridiculously advanced brain would have figured out what went wrong today without my behaving like a complete arse."

Draco leaned in and kissed her forehead, and said, "You know, if it'll make you feel better, I'll permit you to slap me. Just this once, for old times sake. Try not to leave a permanent mark if you don't mind." He stood back and held still, squeezing his eyes shut and grimacing in a comical wince.

Hermione couldn't help but giggle at his scrunched up features and the memory it brought back from when they'd been fourteen. He opened one eye at the sound of her laugh, and grinned wolfishly down at her. Suddenly Hermione realized what an awkward position they were in – her totally naked, him fully clothed and completely soaked. She blushed as Draco reached out to run his hands down her bare back, and ducked her head into his chest.

"Draco? Um…" She needed to say her apologies and get some clothes on as soon as possible.

"Draco, I'm sorry. I truly am. I was daydreaming and careless and almost got myself killed for it."

Draco kissed the tip of her nose. "My darling Girl," he said, "You scared the hell out of me, but I'm proud of you for taking my advice and ruining his hands."

"Well, it was a brilliant idea. Inspired, really. I should thank you for it."

"You're most welcome, Love. You know, I can think of several ways you can thank me right now. I'm like a ticking time bomb over here," Draco chuckled as he let his hands drift down her back to cup her naked bottom. Hermione squeaked and jumped, but Draco just grinned evilly before releasing her to turn off the water. Silently he grabbed a bath sheet and handed it to her, then he grabbed a smaller towel to pat her hair dry. He worked through her masses of hair as she huddled under her bath sheet.

"I love your hair, Little Girl, but there's an awful lot of it. Do you know how many times I've woken up to it attacking me in my sleep? Or that I constantly find strands of it wrapped around various parts of my body? Very odd, really, to suddenly discover a half-meter long brown hair wrapped around one's ear." Draco kissed her forehead, the tip of her nose, her cheeks, her closed eyes, and finally, her lips.

Hermione reached up and clung to him for just a moment, then wrinkled her nose.

"Ugh, Draco. I might have too much hair, but you're a mass of wet wool. You've gone and ruined your jumper."

Draco looked down at his newly ruined black wool jumper, and shrugged. "I like you better," he said, then opened the shower door to usher her out. "Get me a towel, Love?" he asked as he started stripping out of his sodden clothing. His jeans were on the verge of defeating him utterly when he heard a girlish giggle from the doorway. Draco looked up from where he was struggling to free one leg to see Hermione in a long white flannel gown spattered with pink flowers. Her long, damp hair hung loosely down her back, and her feet were bare. She looked like a child. An angelic child. His ankle finally popped free of the wet denim and Draco lost his balance and fell over.

Hermione had never seen Draco lose his balance before, so naturally she burst out laughing. "You know, you could come over here and give me a hand. Well, as soon as you're done cackling over there," Draco drawled. Honestly he was just happy she was laughing again. He'd been monumentally worried he'd fucked everything up earlier.

Hermione pulled out a clean towel and made her way over to Draco. She handed him the towel, then knelt down to pull the denim away from his legs while he sat and watched her from the shower floor. Without a word, she pulled his socks off as well, and threw them off to the side of the stall. She looked up at Draco, who gestured towards his boxer briefs and raised an eyebrow.

"Going to help me out?" he asked.

Hermione stood, and held out her hand. "Sure, I'll help you out." She caught his hand, but instead of her pulling him up, he dragged her down into his lap. Hermione willingly allowed herself to be drawn down on top of him, and snuggled against her soggy boyfriend. Draco combed his fingers through her damp hair and kissed her fiercely. They sat there peacefully for a moment, allowing the last strain of their first conflict as a couple to fade away into the night. Eventually Hermione smiled against his lips, and pulled away to tug him to his feet with her.

"Take those wet pants off, Mr. Malfoy, and join me in our bedroom," she said softly, and left the room.

Draco's mouth dropped open. "Did you just say what I think you said?"

/…../

Hermione stood next to the bed, holding the framed photo that recently found its home on her bed side table. It was a photo of her and Draco from young Renton and Lindy's wedding. Sue had taken the photo just as Draco's lips had met hers as they danced together under the fairy lights. She loved the way her dress flared in the photo, so that even though it was a Muggle photograph, the feeling of movement was strong, as was the feeling of joy and desire that washed over her every time she looked at the photo. It was, all in all, very romantic.

A pair of strong arms wrapped around her waist from behind, and Draco's voice whispered in her ear, "I love that picture." He pulled her hair away from her neck and kissed her underneath her right ear, then licked the back of her neck. It had become a habit of Draco's to kiss and lick the insides of her wrists as well as her neck, something he enjoyed immensely and she good-naturedly accepted, for the most part.

"Hey! Draco, enough with the licking! Why do you keep licking me?" Hermione squirmed and turned around in his arms just to get facially assaulted by Draco's tongue. He licked the top of her nose, her left cheek, and across her lips as she giggled and pushed at him in an attempt to free herself.

"Just marking my territory, Love. Plus, you taste absolutely delicious," he said as he skimmed his hands down her sides, tickling her as he went along.

"Do you even realize that you are constantly licking me where I would normally wear perfume? I can't wear it anymore for fear of poisoning you," she complained.

"Good, I like the way you smell best anyway," Draco replied smoothly as he leaned down to nuzzle her neck.

"I probably smell like Eau de Malfoy these days. Seriously Draco, you're worse than a puppy!" she said, then shuddered as his tongue snaked its way from her collarbone, up her neck, across her jaw, and into her mouth. Draco kissed her slowly, and sensuously, then released her to observe her flushed face.

"You don't look like it bothers you," he remarked. Then he swooped down and hauled her up into his arms and turned to deposit her on her side of her bed.

Or was it THEIR bed? He'd heard what she'd said moments before when she called it 'our bedroom' instead of 'the bedroom', or even 'my bedroom'. Hermione rarely suffered from slips of the tongue, and he hoped desperately she was going to offer that he move in with her. Draco got himself settled into the bed next to his girlfriend, propped himself up on one elbow, raised one eyebrow in silent query, and waited.

"Sooo…" she said quietly.

"Yes?"

"I've been thinking," Hermione said as she sat up and twisted the edge of the bed sheet in her hands.

"Naturally."

"Oh, shut it, Draco. Look, I was wondering if, maybe, you'd like to move in? I mean, we spend all of our time together anyway, and you never even go to your flat anymore except to get extra clothing and even that all ends up in the wash here. And there's plenty of room for both of us, and I have storage space across the hall for your furniture so it's not like you'd even have to get rid of your stuff. I know it's kind of sudden and we haven't really been together that long in the grand scheme of things, but I really feel like we're really, REALLY good together, you know? I mean, we're going to argue and we're not always going to want to do absolutely everything together, but we made it through today right? And today was kind of a whopper, you know? And, I don't know, look at us, Draco. I think… well, I think as far as couples go, we're-" Hermione's ramble was cut off by her delighted boyfriend, who tackled her and dragged her down into the pillows with him.

"Brilliant? Amazing? Magnificent? Awe inspiring?" Draco asked as he kissed her over and over again.

Hermione laughed and nodded. "Yes, that's exactly what I was thinking. After all we are-"

"Young, brilliant, incredibly good looking and ridiculously wealthy?" Draco asked cheekily.

"Yep," she said, grinning up at him.

"Well then I accept your offer of cohabitation, Ms. Granger. When do you want to get started?" he asked.

"Get started? Draco, you're already half-way moved in. I just figured you'd like it if all your clothes were together in one location again." Hermione pointed out.

"Well that's just careful manipulation on my part, Love. I've been quietly moving in since you first brought me here. Think of it as a friendly take-over. After all, the Fortress is much nicer than my flat," he said as he shifted them around so that she was laying on top of him, straddling his hips in that way that he loved so much.

"How very Slytherin of you," Hermione said archly, raising her eyebrow to indicate she'd noticed Draco's manipulations to their bodies as well as to her flat. She rocked her hips, and Draco hissed in anticipation.

"It's my nature, Love. Couldn't stop if I wanted to," he panted as Hermione slid down his naked body until she was facing his erection. He was hoping for her hands on his cock, but was shocked and nearly overwhelmed to the point of embarrassment when Hermione licked him.

Then she did it again. And again. Draco's eyes rolled back in his head as he considered that he might have possibly found the most perfect girl in the world.

/…../

For the next three evenings, Draco and Hermione packed the contents of his flat and rearranged her bedroom, kitchen, and bookshelves to make room for Draco's belongings.

Draco noticed as each day passed that new photos would appear on the walls or the various horizontal surfaces. There was a black and white photo stuck to the front of the refrigerator of Draco and Renny, standing between two of Renny's motorcycles, holding their helmets under their arms as they chatted. A series of three framed pictures of Hermione and Draco now hung on the brick column directly in front of the front door that Sue had taken of them at young Renton and Lindy's wedding a few weeks before. A photo of Hermione, Sue and the fairy girls - all four of them in princess gowns - sat in a Tinkerbell frame on the kitchen counter. It sat next to a photo of a grinning Hermione and Sue with their arms around each other's shoulders, sweaty and victorious after they'd crossed the finish line of their first race together.

There was a sepia photo hanging in Hermione's practice studio of Draco, alone, sitting in the sand facing the ocean. She'd taken it the afternoon that they'd driven down to Sussex so that Draco could meet her parents. Not that Mr. and Mrs. Granger fully appreciated who either of them were, but it was a good visit anyway.

Draco's favorite photo, though, was one he'd taken just the other night. Hermione sat on the floor in front of her bookshelves, with Draco's collection of books scattered all around her as she tried to assimilate his titles in with hers. She'd gotten sidetracked though, on Draco's newest acquisition: a first edition copy of C.S. Lewis's _The Great Divorce_ – one of her favorite Lewis apologetics – and had sat right down on the floor to read it. Draco had taken the photo just as she'd started to wind a lock of her hair around her finger. It was Hermione in her element, as he would ever think of her, lost in her own world in the Library. Draco's heart thumped happily every time he even thought of the photo, now cropped to size and tucked away in his wallet.

'Tonight,' Draco thought to himself late Friday afternoon as he, young Renton, and Shaun hauled the last of his furniture onto a trailer they'd borrowed from Renny. Draco's appliances and bedroom furniture were already in Hermione's storage room, which was behind the door opposite their front door. The far end of the storage room had a very convenient freight elevator that led to an empty garage that Hermione could technically use for her car if it wasn't so damned inconveniently placed away from the entrance to the Fortress. The storage room was already half filled with the contents of Hermione's parents' house and some of her and Harry's odds and ends that she wasn't sure what to do with, but didn't want to get rid of.

'Tonight,' he repeated as he stood under the shower spray to rinse off the sweat and dust of manual labor. Tonight he was going to tell her that one thing he'd never told anyone before. Hell, he was pretty sure he could have told her weeks ago, it just didn't seem appropriate or even possible when they'd only just gotten together that he'd fallen arse over heels in love.

To Be Continued.


	17. Ch 17 A Different Kind of Lesson

**Author's Note: I own no person, no place, no thing – except the plot! If you recognize it, it probably belongs to Ms. Rowling or some other awesome super-human**.

**P.S. Smut Alert. Whole Chapter of Smut Ahead. Feel free to skip the entire thing if you're not into that kind of stuff…**

**Chapter 17 A Different Kind of Lesson**

Hermione and Draco had finished the last of Draco's move-in Friday evening, and Hermione knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that later on that night they'd get around to that one thing they'd been trying so hard to wait to do. She could tell by the spring in Draco's step and the heat in his eyes that he knew it too. As she brushed her hair and parted it into three sections so that she could braid it, Hermione considered her relationship with Draco. She adored him, that much was true, and she was definitely ready. Her misgivings and her reluctance to allow Draco access to her body stemmed from her own feelings of inadequacy. She looked at herself in the mirror as she finished her braid. Draco adored her too, and she needed to stop projecting her fears onto him. He'd been delighted by any physical attention she gave him, surely that would make her good enough for him where sex was concerned. So two hours later, as they were finishing their meal at the Italian restaurant around the corner, Hermione casually asked him if he was ready to go home and go to bed. His head snapped up from where he'd been signing the tab.

"What?" he hissed.

/…../

Draco dragged his mouth off of Hermione's long enough to look in her eyes and see if there really was the "Yes" he thought he'd seen before they left the restaurant. They'd nearly run the distance to their flat, and made it through the two keyed locks and two flights of stairs to the front door. He'd punched in the code on the keypad, and she'd pulled him inside by the hem of his jumper.

"Hermione, Love, are you sure… ahh!" Draco gasped as she rubbed at his erection through his jeans. Holy shite, holy shite, holy-

Draco was all hard, lean muscle over smooth, silky skin under Hermione's hands. The more she touched him, the more her own body woke and responded in anticipation. Hermione had never felt this kind of desperate need before, but it was so powerful and intense she couldn't stop or turn away if her life depended on it.

"Yes," she whispered in his ear.

Suddenly Draco grabbed her face with his hands, and, kissing her hard on her mouth, walked her backwards to their bedroom. Hermione's hands shook as hooked them under the hem of his jumper and tugged it upwards. Draco broke away from her face to finish pulling his shirt off and threw it behind him, then attacked her mouth again urgently, running his tongue over her lips and down the side of her jaw to her neckline.

Hermione's hands traveled across his chest and along the bare expanse of his flat stomach. She curled her arms around his waist and up the line of his spine, making him shudder. He broke away from her neck and gazed in her eyes, mouth open, eyes hooded and black.

"Gods, Hermione, you have no idea how much I like that! Please, please just keep touching me," he gasped as he reached down to pull up her shirt over her head and slide the cups of her bra away from her nipples. He leaned down and licked first one nipple, then the other, as he unhooked her bra and dropped the fabric to the floor. They both walked out of their shoes and tugged off socks, and finally pushed all denim well out of the way of their straining bodies.

Draco pushed Hermione down onto their bed and climbed up her body, eyes smouldering with lust and the deepest most ardent love she'd ever seen directed at her in her life. Her heart fluttered in her chest. He was just so damn beautiful. Gods, she didn't want to disappoint Draco, but she'd never quite figured out what Ron had been so angry with her for every time they'd been in this position. Ronald had called her frigid. No matter what she did in bed with him, no matter how hard she tried to please him, he'd turned away from her with such loathing that he'd broken her heart. She'd felt so cheap and dirty, he'd even called her a slut, saying she must have slagged it around so much with Harry when they were on the run together that her shit must be broken. Hermione had cried endlessly over those words. Harry had been like a brother to her, and Ronald had eventually been so overwhelmed with his own jealousy and disgust for her sexually that he'd thrown her away. He'd called her a whore and even gone so far as to imply that Harry probably wouldn't have died if it hadn't been for her 'interference' in their efforts in the War.

It didn't matter what Hermione had said, or how she'd pleaded with Ron in self-defense, in the end they'd just barely managed the kind of cordiality that began and ended with the 'let's just be friends' line. She prayed the same thing wouldn't happen with Draco, but for the life of her she had no idea what was wrong with her body, or why it was such a big deal.

Draco frowned at her. "What are you doing, Love?" he asked. She was chewing on her lip, and her eyes were scrunched up in a frown of nervous expectation. As if she was anticipating pain? Draco felt her body tensing and flexing under him, but not in a sexual way. Gods, she was bracing herself!

"What do you mean?" Hermione touched the side of his face with her free right hand. Her left one was pinned between them, tucked against his chest.

"Well, you've suddenly gone as tense as a coil of wire and I can practically smell the smoke from all the gears turning in your head, Little Girl." Then something clicked in his head. "Wait a second, you've done this before, right? I mean, I thought you and the Weasel…"

"No! I mean, yes, I've done this before. I'm not a virgin. I just – ah, well, I guess it's been a long time and I'm a little nervous." Hermione let out a tiny whimper of a laugh. "I'm not very good at this." She blushed and brushed her fingers along his temple, through his hairline with his scar as she tried to distract herself from her embarrassment.

"You're not very good at this?" Draco rested himself on his side and tucked her body up next to his. His arousal was hot against her hip. "I thought we were doing fantastically, if you can't tell." At this point he rubbed his hips against her side. "You know, I've been around you for the last month straight, only taking breaks for showers and to go to work. And before that, I was totally alone in the world for three agonizing months. And before that was six weeks of house-arrest, in which you were the only female guest I entertained. And before that, two years on the run fighting in a shit war that ruined both of our lives. It's been nearly three years since we were at school, Little Girl. So I can guarantee you it's been a hell of a lot longer for me than it has been for you."

Hermione ducked her head and tried to draw her arm across her chest, and Draco realized she was shutting down.

"Hermione, Love, look at me please. Don't shut down." Draco pushed her hair up and away from her forehead, and turned her face towards his. He kissed her soft lips, already dark and swollen from his previous attentions.

"Draco, I, well… I'm sorry. I'm ruining the mood." Hermione winced at the awkwardness of her statement, but Draco just chuckled, sat up and dragged her up against the pillows into a seated position against his chest. He tugged the comforter up around their shoulders and hugged her tight.

"Oh, my darling Girl. You're not ruining anything. I've been in this mood for the past month and I think there's just about only one way to get rid of it." Draco kissed the top of her head as he joked with her. "Soooo… Why don't you tell me what's going on in that great big brain of yours, Love? You're my best friend, right? I thought you could tell me anything. Well, something's obviously eating at you Little Girl, so talk away."

Hermione's heart lurched. She knew she had to be hurting Draco's feelings by messing up what had been a wonderful evening together. He was her best friend, and she wanted him badly. She trusted him with her whole heart. It was hard to admit to a weakness though, especially when it was one she couldn't even do anything about. Hermione felt deformed, defective, and unlovable. Might as well get it over with. Maybe, if things went well enough, he wouldn't look at her in the morning the way Ronald always had.

"I don't work right. My body, I mean. Ronald said I was frigid, and – I don't know. I guess there's something missing in me. I don't, um, have orgasms. I don't know how, or why. I just never have… So, that's, that's really it. I mean, it's not really a big deal to me either way, it's not like I don't like sex or anything. I just didn't want you to get angry about it the way Ronald did. He was pretty awful about the whole thing, and… well. I just don't want you to be disappointed in me. Because I just, I don't work right." Hermione blurted it all out as quickly as she could, head down and eyes stinging in embarrassment.

Draco considered what she said, and the hurried manner in which she'd said it, and sensed that they were in very delicate territory. Hermione's entire identity as a sexual female had been called into question by her jerk of an ex, and it had obviously done some serious damage to her self-confidence as a woman. Suddenly he realized why she'd been so reluctant to allow him access to her body, and why she'd never seemed interested in him returning any of the favors she'd given him. Shite. 'Once again, you are an incredibly unobservant tool, Malfoy,' He decided to start with the simplest, most obvious questions, and work his way in – literally - from there.

"So, no orgasms?"

"No." Draco felt her shrug her shoulders.

"Um, not to be indelicate, but, not even… ahem… by yourself?" Draco's face flushed as images of Hermione pleasuring herself flashed through his mind. Oh, what he wouldn't pay to see that in person. His cock throbbed at the suggestion, and he shifted to adjust his erection away from her. No need to scare her off with his persistent horniness while she was in the middle of an identity crisis.

"Um, no." Another shoulder shrug. "Never tried."

"WHAT?" Draco shot up, incredulous. "Never? How is that even possible?"

Hermione tensed. Damn it, this was so personal and so awkward, but she was determined to be open and honest, hoping that he would actually listen. "I, no, never. It never occurred to be that I was supposed to. I mean, I knew other girls did it, but I just thought the whole idea sounded really icky and crude… And, Gods, this is really embarrassing! I just never had the, um, URGE to… So, no. No orgasms, no solo exploration – cak, gross! No kidding." Hermione finally looked up at Draco, which was an encouraging sign.

"Honestly, Draco, it just sounds so disgusting. It's about as appealing as giving myself a root canal or some other exploratory surgery. I mean, I don't stick my fingers up my nose, or down my throat, or up my arse. Why would I want to – well, you know, do THAT?"

Draco gaped at her, but she'd warmed up to her topic, so she kept on, growing more confident by the moment.

"I mean, my fingernails are sharp, I don't want to injure myself and the skin down there seems a bit on the delicate side. And germs! I could give myself an infection! I mean I understand it's different for guys, all your equipment is on the outside, rubbing against your clothes and everything, like – all the time…"

Draco raised an eyebrow as he watched Hermione raise up and brace her palms defensively against his chest. She could feel his chuckle rumbling in his chest as much as she could hear it coming from his smiling mouth. The next thing she knew, he'd flipped her over on her back, pinning her beneath him.

"I hate to point out the obvious, my dear, but you have equipment on the outside too." And Draco ran his hand lightly down one nipple, and across the other, watching them bead under his touch. He bent to kiss and then suck on each one gently, gently, until he felt Hermione's body relax into the bed.

"Draco, I-" Hermione started.

"Shhh, stop worrying. Think of this as a scientific experiment. Research, my dear Ms. Granger. I would like to disprove the theory put forth by Doctor Weasel that your body is incapable of functioning properly in a state of natural sexual arousal that you've been living with. If you'll let me, that is."

Hermione giggled. "I love it when you talk scientific to me. It's so sexy."

"My darling Girl," Draco teased, "everything I do is sexy. Have you honestly not noticed? Now, I want you to tell me what you like, and what you don't like, and we'll go from there."

With his left arm bracing him up on the bed so he could watch her body's reaction, he ran his right hand down her belly to the gray satin of her knickers, sliding his finger against her slit, running it gently up and down, up and down, up…

Hermione gasped, then groaned. "God, Draco, that feels good."

"Not gross?"

"No."

He hooked his finger under the side of her knickers and tugged them sideways, exposing her center to his touch. He ran his finger, again, lightly up and down, up and down, then up and, using a bit more pressure, spread her folds and sought out her button. Hmm, it was a little high, and it was currently tucked shyly away in a tiny little bundle of skin, but there it was. Draco gently stroked her clit.

Hermione jerked and almost shot out of the bed.

"Whoa!"

"Not icky?" Draco asked, and pressed again, rubbing light circles around the rapidly swelling pearl of her arousal.

"No. Oh God… that feels… wow!" Hermione gasped.

"Fingernails not too sharp?"

"Uh, no! Don't stop, don't stop!"

"Not worried about germs?" Draco kissed her belly and shifted down to gaze on his prize. He rubbed more firmly, then dipped his fingers down and slipped them into her sex, testing her slickness for her arousal. Yes, she was definitely getting there.

"What? No!"

"NO?" Draco paused in his admiration of her slippery folds. He'd completely lost track of what they were talking about.

"Don't stop! I'm not worried about germs! Draco…" Hermione whined. Her legs shook, and he steadied them with his hands.

Draco knew he wasn't reading her wrong: there was absolutely nothing wrong with her body, outside of her utter inexperience and her wanker of an ex's destructive neglect. Hermione's body was beautiful and lush, soft and supple and incredibly responsive. How could that idiot Weasley have not been able to figure her out? Draco figured the Weasel was one of those blokes that just started thrusting his junk at the first sign of an available hole. And then he'd gone and blamed Hermione for not being able to come! The poor girl was wound so tight, with what probably amounted to years of sexual frustration, honestly. There was no way she'd be able to fully relax and enjoy what he was about to do without some assistance. Draco sighed, and kissed Hermione's thigh, then rocked back on his heels to stand over her supine body on the bed.

Ronald Weasley really was an arsehole. And Draco was going to do everything imaginable tonight to make Hermione forget that man existed.

"Right." Draco rubbed his palms together. "Hold that pose my dear, I shall return." He winked at her and sauntered out of their bedroom towards the kitchen. He could feel her eyes watching his backside as he walked out, and laughed to himself. His little minx was absurdly easy to figure out.

"WHAT? Where are you going?" Hermione jerked upright indignantly, but her jaw dropped as she watched the long lines of his lean body escape their bedroom. Holy Hell, he was bloody gorgeous. She was incredibly aroused for the first time in her whole freaking life, and her boyfriend was dashing out the door in his underwear – only to return with a bottle of tequila, a lime, a knife, a plate, and two shot glasses.

"What in the world are you doing?" Hermione hugged her knees to her chest as she watched him pause at their bureau and cut the lime into halves, then quarters, then eighths. Draco poured two shots of tequila and grabbed two lime wedges, then joined Hermione on the bed.

"Interesting tidbit of information about me, Little Girl: I actually loathe Muggle liquor. Can't hold it for shite either. That's the real reason why I stick with wine and beer. But tonight is a special occasion. Scientific experiment, remember? We are celebrating your rapid recovery from Dr. Weasley's diagnosis of Frigidity, and we are accomplishing my hidden agenda of getting you to relax enough to enjoy yourself without worrying about what I'm thinking of your performance." Draco saw her frown and open her mouth to protest. He rolled his eyes as he passed her a shot glass and a lime.

"Honestly, Hermione, we're not handing out grades for this. Please just trust me, this will help you relax. Now, bottoms up, there's a good girl." Draco shuddered at the nasty liquor and bit his lime before his stomach could heave. He really did hate Muggle liquor. Hermione tossed back her shot, bit her lime, and grimaced.

"Ugh, Draco, was that really necessary?"

Draco crossed back to the dresser and poured one more shot in her glass, and brought her another lime.

"Yes," he said as he handed her the second shot. "Now drink that last one down and then we'll get started." He watched her throat expand and bob as she drank down the second shot, and grinned at her sour face. He took her glass and her two spent limes and put them back on the dresser, then turned around and pounced on her, shocking her mightily as he pressed his full weight onto hers. Draco kissed her hard, tasting citrus and alcohol and that underlying sweetness that was exclusively Hermione.

Hermione, all anxiety forgotten under his attack, giggled and wiggled under him. "Draco! What on earth are you doing?"

"Ravishing your innocent body, my dear Ms. Granger. Can't you tell?" He traced his hands up and down her sides and her arms, willing her tension to disperse as he lightly tickled and teased her. It shouldn't take long for the tequila to start to work.

And it must have kicked in about thirty seconds later, as he dragged his lips down her chin, licking at her neck and then tracing across her breasts, because she started laughing. Loud and hard.

"Draco stop tickling me, you arse!" Hermione giggled helplessly. He lifted his head up long enough to grin evilly at her, and the moonlight coming in through her bedroom window made his hair shine like silver, like spun platinum. Like the boy she'd grown up with, but who was now so different, and so dear, and soooo going to get her knee in his bollocks if he didn't stop tickling her right now!

"Oh no you don't," Draco growled. Luckily, he'd sensed her wicked intentions and leapt up, spreading his legs and then landed straddling the tops of her thighs, effectively pinning them down and shut. He sat back on her legs, gazing down at her gloriousness one more time before he got down to serious business. He cleared his throat, and leaned down close her face and looked her in the eyes.

"Hermione, you're my best friend. I care for you more than I've ever cared for any of my other friends in my life, and most of my family too. I am completely enthralled and overwhelmed by your beauty, your passion, your independence, and your talent. Your faith in me, and your apparent delight in having me around, has made this past month the happiest in my entire life. Yes, my whole life. I was going to tell you this tonight, regardless of what happened between us… Hermione…" At this point Draco was a little overwhelmed by her closeness and sat back up before he did something completely un-masculine like choke on his words. Not when the next ones were so important.

"I love you."

"I love you!"

They both blurted it out at the same time, and then sat staring at each other. Then Draco's face broke into a wide smile. Hermione shuffled her legs under the weight of Draco's body, and he shifted to allow her to sit up with him.

"No kidding?" he asked as he tucked her hair behind her ears. He pressed his lips against hers, licking the last of the citrus and seeking her inherent sweetness.

"No, Draco, no kidding. How can I help it? You didn't leave me a lot of options! You waltz into my life, sweep me entirely off my feet by making me feel useful AND wanted, you pay attention to what I say and do, you're a damned wonderful kisser, and you're so incredibly patient it amazes me. You're interesting and articulate, you're far more coordinated than I'll ever dream of being, and you're completely gorgeous. I can't help it. You're too damn perfect for your own good, and I… Draco, I absolutely adore you." Hermione blushed, thinking that maybe the tequila had loosened her tongue up a little more than she'd intended.

But then she saw the happy blush spread across his face, and she knew she'd said the right thing. If there was one thing Hermione had gathered in the entire time she'd known Draco, and not just in the past month, but the past ten years, was that most of the people he was close to used him for his family's position and wealth, even within his extended family, but most of all, his friends. His parents had loved him, but had loved their power and their own pursuits more. No one, in his whole life, had simply loved him based on his own merits. And he had so many!

Draco's heart felt like it would thump right through his chest, and hoped she couldn't hear it. With every word Hermione had said, he'd fallen more deeply in love with her. He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tightly to him, kissing her hair, her face, her neck, her ears. How did this completely wonderful woman know exactly what to say to dig right into his heart of hearts and make a permanent mark? Forget sex, he just wanted to sit here with her and kiss her for the rest of his life.

"Sooo…" Hermione said, interrupting his blissful mental wanderings by trailing her fingers down the sides of his face and onto his chest.

"Oh, don't you worry Love, I know what we're for. I was just allowing you to finish adoring me before I got back to work." Draco kissed her soundly, properly, his tongue tracing and licking along her lips and into her warm, sweet mouth. He continued to kiss her deeply as he pressed her down into the mattress, then lifted away from her to drag her legs off the edge of the bed. He pulled the lace waistband of her satin knickers and guided them down her legs, flinging them over his shoulder dramatically.

Hermione giggled. Draco was so much fun to be around during in their regular daytime life, she loved that they laughed all the time. But finding out that the humor and fun could continue in these private, quiet moments was completely erotic and so damn comforting she forgot to be afraid of what he'd think of her body or her issues.

Draco licked her smiling mouth, from the right side all the way across to her left, leaving a slobbery trail behind. Hermione laughed and wiped her face. "Ugh, Draco! Enough with the territory marking!"

He chuckled as his hands and mouth journeyed down her body again, nipping and licking and sucking his way down to the curling hairs between her legs. He rested his arms against her legs to keep them pushed wide apart, then tucked his face down into her sex and applied the flat of his tongue and licked from the bottom up to the top. Hermione twitched and jerked, shocked out of her laughter.

"What the- oh my God, Draco! What are you doing?!" Hermione tried to close her legs and pull away from him, but Draco held her in place.

"Hermione, I'm putting an end to your delusion that there's something wrong with your body. Now kindly hold still so I can do this properly," Draco growled at her, the bowed his head down and licked again. Hermione had never had oral sex performed on her before, that much was obvious. She jerked and trembled and moaned as Draco laved his tongue against her tiny nub, seeking it out of its hiding place amongst her folds, teasing and tasting. She was so luscious; sweet and tangy and divine. 'And all mine,' he thought to himself arrogantly. No other man would ever taste her like this, because she was his. Forever, if he had any say in it.

Hermione writhed, embarrassed and turned on and completely out of her mind with a whole new feeling of lust and pleasure pouring through her body. Whatever Draco was doing, he absolutely should never, ever, ever stop. She'd never felt anything like the sensations that spiked and waved through her body. She instinctively tensed her legs and back, overwhelmed by the intensity of…whatever…he…was…doing…with…his…

"OHHH!" Hermione wailed, clenching her fists into the sheets as an unbelievably strong wave of pleasure rippled over her.

"Relax, Love, you're almost there…" Draco murmured to her as her legs tightened around him. He pushed her thighs wider and worked his fingers into her sex's slippery entrance.

"Ohmygodohmygodohmygod…" Hermione's body vibrated and thrummed with heat and desire and…

"Draco!" she cried out when he hooked his finger inside her, tickling that small rough patch inside her quaking flesh as he lashed at her swollen clit.

Hermione's blood boiled and her eyes rolled back in her head as the pulsing waves of pleasure lapped at her nerve endings until suddenly, the tension in her body snapped –

Hermione screamed.

Draco sucked on her nub, riding her orgasm until she lay back, shuddering and spent, sprawled out on the bed. Then he smiled in smug triumph. Frigid indeed. He crawled up her shaking body and propped himself up next to her side. "Congratulations. You, my dear, are officially cured." He grinned down into her face.

Hermione was crying. Tears streamed out of her eyes and into her hair. Draco wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into him.

"Hey, what's wrong? Didn't you like it?" Merlin, he hoped he hadn't hurt her. He didn't think he had. Her body had responded beautifully to his touch, and he'd never been so turned on in his life as he had been watching her shatter under him. He'd been all kinds of ready to finally slide himself inside her, up until about ten seconds ago when he realized she was crying.

Hermione shifted and wrapped her arms around him, hugging him as tightly as he hugged her.

"Oh my God, yes, I loved it!" She wailed against his chest. "I can't even begin to tell you how completely confused I am right now. What the Hell was that?"

Draco smoothed her hair back and ran his hand up and down her trembling back. "That, my darling Girl, was obviously your very first orgasm. I'm glad you liked it. I liked giving it to you." Draco pulled her face up to his so he could look into her eyes. "You have no idea how much I liked giving it to you. If you want, I'll give you another one. In fact, whenever you want, I'd be honored to make you come. You are completely and utterly beautiful, Hermione. And I love you." Draco kissed her wobbling lips and silently pleaded with her to love him in return.

"I love you too Draco. So, so much," Hermione whispered against his mouth. Her tears dried, leaving her eyes wide and shining and completely captivating. She kissed him, hard, and wiggled up against his body. His cock ached for attention, and he thrust his hips against her naked flesh. He deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue into her mouth as he rolled his body on top of hers.

"Hermione, Love, please, can I make love to you?" Draco sighed into her mouth and bucked his hips, trying to convey his very urgent need without overwhelming her still dazzled mind.

A sizzling hot bolt of lightning shot through Hermione's core as she processed his request.

"Oh, God yes!" She pushed her hands down to the waistband of his boxer-briefs, finally, finally freeing his straining erection.

Draco pushed the fabric the rest of the way down his legs and onto the floor, then settled himself between her shaking thighs. Hermione wrapped her fingers around his iron-hard length, rubbing the weeping head of his cock with her thumb as she guided him to her center.

"Fuck," Draco hissed as he squeezed his eyes shut in concentration. Just feeling Hermione's hand wrapped around him was almost enough to make him come. He flexed his hips and felt the tip of his erection press against her slick folds. "Gods, Love. I don't know how gentle I'm going to be. I'm about to fucking explode."

"You don't have to be gentle." Hermione shifted her hips upward and rocked against him, and felt the head of his length slide into her. They both gasped, and Hermione instinctively rocked her hips again. A couple of inches of his heat swept into her. Draco backed out, poising at her entrance again, then pushed, pushed…

"Ooooh…" Hermione moaned at the exquisite pressure of Draco's body filling hers. Sex had never felt like this before. Draco pistoned his hips once, twice, feeling her body stretch and adjust to him. He dropped down on his elbows so his face was hovering just over hers. She was panting, and her face was flushed with desire.

"Ready?" Draco asked as he dropped a kiss onto her swollen lips. Hermione nodded and bit her bottom lip to keep from screaming as he thrust into her, so… damn… hard….

Draco thought his head would explode as he held back the urge to pound her into the mattress. Her tight body felt fucking _perfect_ around him, and he'd waited so damned long tonight. Bringing her to her very first orgasm was a highlight of his entire life, but right now he needed… to….

"Fuck!" he cried out, increasing his pace as he kissed her fiercely.

She was.

So.

Damn.

Sweet.

Hermione gasped and cried out as he reached down and stroked her sensitive clit, rubbing circles around and around as he ground his hips into hers. Her nerves were on fire! Her legs flexed and wrapped up and around him, holding on desperately.

Draco shifted up and back on his haunches, and pulled her heels up over his shoulders, holding the backs of her knees out and open wide. Her hips left the bed entirely, and he increased his pace as he rubbed, rubbed, rubbed tiny circles with his thumb.

Hermione's brain absolutely shut off. Her entire body was a continuous wave of heat and rippling waves of intense pleasure that coincided with the beat of his thrusts. She arched her back and wailed as one wave after another swept through her, burning, burning…

"Oh God, Draco!" Hermione's senses flew apart as her orgasm ripped through her.

'Oh thank God!' Draco thought as he felt the power of her orgasm squeeze at his cock, and finally, blissfully let go.

Time passed, Hermione became aware of her surroundings again, and realized she had a very sweaty, very sleepy man laying on her. She reached her hand up and touched the side of his face.

"Hey."

Draco groaned and rolled off of her, then pulled her body against his as he collapsed on the sheets.

"I'm almost dead, Hermione. But before I die, can I just say, that was the single most amazing experience of my entire life." Draco felt Hermione sit up, and then felt a blanket covering him as she lay back down next to him. He was too spent to even open his eyes. He felt her soft lips kiss his face, lingering on his mouth. He barely had enough energy to kiss her in return.

"Draco?"

"Hmmmmmm…"

"Thank you."

Draco opened one gray eye to see two green ones peering up at him. She was a hot, sweaty mess, her hair was everywhere, and her face was red and blotchy from exertion.

And she was beaming.

"Darling Girl, thank YOU. That was…"

"An experience worth repeating?" Hermione looked hopefully up at him.

He chuckled. "Absolutely. Not til I've had a nap though. I moved furniture today too in case you'd forgotten. I am utterly wrecked right now."

"Well, sure. But like, tomorrow? I mean, can you do that thing with your tongue? I really liked it. I had no idea that my body could even DO that, Draco. I didn't know sex could be anything like that. God, I've been missing out! If I didn't feel so amazing and tired right now I'd probably go hunt down Ronald Weasley right now and beat him to a bloody pulp for - mmpmmhhh!" Hermione's happy chatter was cut off by Draco's mouth on hers.

"Yes, Love, if you don't mind I plan to fuck you six ways from Sunday tomorrow. I will lick your entire body until you can't stand it anymore, and then I will make you come so hard you forget your name. But for right now, sleep." Draco loomed over her, looking stern and spent at the same time.

But his words acted like a shot to her system. Draco saw her eyes go wide and dark as she gasped at the sudden flood of desire that washed through her. Seeing her arousal so clearly defined on her face acted like a jolt to his sleepy sex drive, and his cock surged to life.

"Damn it," he groaned as he crawled back on top of her, taking one nipple in his mouth as he positioned himself between her sticky thighs. His fingers went to her swollen nub, and Hermione's legs shot up and wrapped around him, dragging their bodies together with a slap that he felt in the backs of his eyeballs.

Hermione gasped under him, completely over-stimulated and undone. Draco pulled her up against him and sat up on his haunches so she could ride him. The change of angle brought Hermione to a shattering climax so fast Draco had to laugh. Apparently her body had stored away a lifetime's worth of orgasms, and he'd opened the floodgates.

"Yes, Love, there… Hold onto me now…"

"Yes!"

"Fuck-"

"Oh, my, God…"

"Hold on, Love…"

Draco groaned in relief as he felt his orgasm surge inside her for the second time. His legs gave out under him, and his arms dropped from Hermione's waist as he slumped down in the bed. He had just enough time to see Hermione's eyes slip closed, and she collapsed, overwhelmed and spent, and went right to sleep before sleep came and stole him away too.

To Be Continued.

**Author's Note: I am posting this on my birthday, so, you know, be kind. And again, if you're not into the whole lurid sex stuff, please excuse my lusty meanderings. It's all in good fun! ajc**


	18. Chapter 18 Change is Good

**Author's Note: I own no person, no place, no thing – except the plot! If you recognize it, it probably belongs to Ms. Rowling or some other awesome super-human**.

**P.S. Still slightly smutty, but not wide-open smutty goodness like the last chapter. **

**Chapter 18 Change is Good**

The Saturday morning sun rose to shine through the windows of Hermione and Draco's bedroom, falling on Draco's bare shoulders as they flexed in time with his hips as he thrust into Hermione's body. She quaked and moaned underneath him, eager and frenzied and mindless with need in a way that she'd never been before in her entire life. Draco had brought her two more orgasms during the night, and she felt the signs of another one coming over her as he grunted and picked up his pace, adding an extra roll of his hips that hit her right-

"Gah! Ah! Oooohhhhh…." Hermione gasped and broke underneath him, and Draco groaned as he rode her orgasm to his own completion.

/…../

"Draco, please…"

"Ah… soon, Love. I. Promise! Fuck!"

"Oh…my… please…"

"Yeh?"

"Yes! Now!"

"Fuck. Yesssss."

"Ohmyohmyohmy….GOD!"

"There, Love?"

"YEESSSS!"

/…../

"Draco."

"Mmmmm?"

"I'm hungry. Do you want anything?"

"Mmmmm…"

"Draco?"

…..

"Fine, sleepyhead, no sandwich for you."

"Sandwich?"

"Oh, I thought you were asleep, Mister All Shagged Out And Too Sleepy To Talk."

"Am not."

"Not what?"

"Shagged out. Come back here and I'll show you."

"No! Wait, Draco! I'm hungry!"

"Mmmm, me too…"

/…../

"Draco! This is a shag-free shower! Get that thing away from me!"

"Sorry Love, can't help it."

"Good God, Draco, aren't you tired?"

"Hermione. I'm nineteen and I haven't had sex in almost three years. No, I'm not tired. And even if I was, I wouldn't stop."

"Well fine, but aren't you sore? I can barely walk!"

"If you want I could give you a massage…"

"Hands to yourself, Malfoy!"

"Okay…"

"Draco! Keep THAT to yourself too!"

"_Hermione…_"

"Don't whine, Draco- Ah! Oh, do that again!"

"Oh, Hermione, I thought you'd never ask…"

/…../

_Dear Mafalda,_

_I'm writing to inform you of my change of address. All further correspondence can be referred to my new home address, which coincidentally happens to also be Hermione's home address. I'm also enclosing a copy of my brand new automobile driver's license, and at Hermione's insistence, a photo of us from our friends' wedding we attended a few weeks ago. So as you can see, things are improving for yours truly out here in Muggle-opolis. I'll be hopefully getting licensed soon to drive motorbikes as well. I've been taking lessons from a friend of mine, and I've got to tell you, Mafalda, it's almost as good as flying. _

_Hermione also asked me to enclose a copy of her Police Report from her attack last week. Not to worry, the wanker was too incapacitated from Hermione's thorough arse-kicking to get away, and he's now in police custody – if he's been released from hospital yet. I'd like to make sure that the man is incapable of coming near her again – I don't know if you can do anything like that, and I don't care what method you use, but Hermione's been through enough, and she doesn't deserve to have to live in fear of this kind of shite anymore. _

_Sorry this is so short, but I wanted to get all of this information to you as soon as possible. We're hosting a dinner party this evening, and Hermione wanted me to run out to the grocer's to pick up some missing ingredients. It's Tapas Night at the Granger-Malfoy Household! Mmmm... Tapas…_

_Speaking of dinner parties, we wanted to invite you to come out to meet us one evening soon. I'm sure as my Probation Officer you're probably obligated to see my new living situation anyway, but we'd rather that occur as a dinner party and not some formal visit from the Wizengamot. Please consult your schedule and let us know. _

_Hermione got me a t-shirt the other day with a cartoon drawing of a motorcycle on it that says "Enjoy the Ride" by some shirt company called Life is Good. Rather clever, don't you think? _

_So, anyway, yeh, Life is Good. _

_DAM_

_P.S. When you do come out to visit, you and I are going to have a long and meaningful discussion about email, because sitting down to write and post a letter in the mail is just a pain in the arse. Time to join the twenty-first century, Mafalda._

_P.P.S Have you heard from Blaise or Theo yet? _

_P.P.P.S. Hermione insists that I write this, ugh. We send our love and hope you are doing well. _

_Draco_

/…../

Draco was sitting in the break room at the Library, eating a sandwich and perusing a Yamaha catalog when his mobile rang.

"Afternoon Mr. Frather," he said.

"Oi, Draco, did I catch you in the middle of something?" Shaun asked.

"No, jutht eating lunch. What can I do for you?"

"All right, well Susie and Hermione wanted to get together tonight to make plans for Winnie's shower, and now it's turned into dinner as well. Six okay for you two?"

"Yeth that'th fine. Can we bring anything?"

"Er, Draco? Isn't it a little early in the day for a nip?"

"I haven't been drinking!"

"Then… did Hermione pop you in the mouth or something?"

"No…" Draco sighed.

"What's up, mate? You sound off," Shaun said in concern.

"Thaun, it'th not… I don't think Hermione would like me to thare… Oh bugger it, my tongue'th thore. Jutht leave it at that," Draco groaned.

"And why is that… Oi, are you talking about-"

"Yeh, I am, all right? Hermione'th dithcovered the joyth of oral thekth. And becauthe I'm an obliging gentleman, my tongue may fall off," Draco muttered as Shaun hooted in laughter.

"Whoa! Too much information, mate! Damn, I've never met a bloke with a sore tongue from THAT! Is that all you two have been doing for the past week?"

"Pretty much. I've thtill managed to come to work, but other than that…" Draco drifted off as Shaun howled his amusement.

"Are you thinking of trying out for the Olympics then, Draco? Going for the gold medal?" Shaun choked out between guffaws of laughter.

"Thaun, at thith rate, I think I'm going for Thainthood. Draco Malfoy, Patron Thaint of Cunnilinguth," Draco drawled as he flipped to a full color page of the new line of 1000cc bikes. Brilliant, bold colors, clean lines. Sexy and fast and sleek… Hmm…

"Lord Allmighty, that's brilliant, mate. Not a bad thing to be remembered for. Just don't let the other girls hear about it, us other blokes don't want to get injured too!"

"Thaun, have you theen or talked to Hermione thith week? Thee can barely remember her own name, and thee keeps bumping into wallth. It'th bloody hilariouth." Draco smirked at the memory. Hermione was a wreck, and Draco was a damned proud man for it.

"Ah, mate, I remember those days fondly. Just enjoy it while you can, Draco. I love my wee fairy girls, but they sure do put a damper on the bedroom fun. Most nights they're tucked right up in between us. Live it up now, mate. You just wait til you and Hermione have kids," Shaun said jokingly.

/…../

Hermione stood in Sue's kitchen, peeling potatoes and watching Draco and the fairy girls playing in Sue and Shaun's back yard as the sun set. It was absurdly cold outside, even for mid November.

"I think it might snow soon. Have you heard any weather reports?" Sue asked slyly as she watched her friend nearly slice her own finger off as she stared, glassy-eyed, out the window at her boyfriend. Draco was holding Rosie upside down, encouraging her to hang her legs over a low branch on the tree in the center of the yard. Ellie was bent in half so she could examine her twin's upside-down visage, and the two girls shrieks of delight could be heard even in the kitchen.

"Hmm? Oh, no, I'm not quite done yet. Three more to go," Hermione replied vacantly as she watched Draco sprint across the back yard after the fairy girls, who'd dumped handfuls of leaves on his head as soon as he'd sat down on the ground to help Rosie flip down from the tree.

"Well, that's very nice, Hermione, but that doesn't really have much to do with the snow report, now does it?" Sue laughed and bumped her hip against Hermione's to get her attention. Hermione blinked, and looked up at Sue in confusion.

"Huh? It's going to snow?"

"I don't know, Hermione, I was just asking you that. But you've been so caught up in ogling your boyfriend out there you haven't heard I word I've said for the past ten minutes, have you?" Sue asked as she took the peeler from Hermione and handed her a towel before she bled all over the potatoes. "Snap out of it, dear, you're bleeding all over dinner," Sue said kindly. Hermione looked down at her finger, yelped, and wrapped it in the towel. "All right, no more sharp instruments for you until you come back from La La Land. Honestly, Hermione, what's up? You were fine last week. Is this about Sutton, or is it about the hunky blond chasing my daughters around the yard?"

Hermione blushed and hung her head. She was in La La Land. For the past week, she'd been drifting in a languid haze of pre- and post-orgasmic euphoria, and she honestly couldn't seem to focus on anything else. Even Draco had noticed. He'd taken over driving for the both of them when she almost ran the car into the curb, he'd taken over all stove top cooking when she'd started a grease fire, and he'd taken over laundry when she accidently dyed all of their white clothing a delicate pink – which he pointed out really only affected her clothing since he almost never wore white. Unfortunately for Draco though, the pale pink reminded him of that insanely erotic corset and stockings she'd worn weeks ago at young Renton and Lindy's wedding. When Hermione walked out of the bedroom wearing a freshly dyed formerly white long sleeved t-shirt, he'd been unable to resist dragging her down onto the sofa, where he ripped her clothes off and applied his tongue in that amazing way that made her toes curl and her legs shake-

"Sue? Can I ask you a female question?" Hermione asked suddenly. She was embarrassed as hell, but damn it, she wanted to know if this… amazing THING that Draco kept doing to her over and over and over again was indeed what all the girls back in school had gone on and on about.

Sue cocked her head at Hermione, then, sensing that her younger friend was slightly embarrassed, nodded her head and closed the door that separated the kitchen from the rest of the house, hoping it would keep any stray men or children from walking in on whatever it was Hermione had to say.

"What is it, Hermione? Are you pregnant?" Sue asked as she gave Hermione her full attention.

"No! No, not that Sue. I got on the Pill, you know. So no, nothing like that. It's just. Well, Sue, is it, um, normal for a woman to have orgasms every time she has sex?" Hermione asked.

"Hermione! Well, goodness! Hmm, well. I guess it's something we all strive for, and if a woman knows her body well and has an open and communicative relationship with her partner, it's certainly possible. But what's going on, Hermione? I've never seen you like this before! Are you sure you're all right?" Sue took Hermione by the shoulders as she encouraged the younger girl to look up.

Hermione blushed. "I'm all right, probably more than all right, I'm just… Sue, I can't think straight! I've never felt like this before! My brain won't work, I can't concentrate on anything or even think about anything else, and all I want to do is just hurry up and get home and rip his clothes off - Oh my gosh, I can't believe I just said that!" Hermione covered her face with her hands as Sue guffawed.

"Oh my gosh, I can't believe you just said that either! Hermione Granger, you little tart! So you and Draco finally managed to do the horizontal mambo! Was it your first time? I don't think it's common for a girl to be able to have an orgasm her first time, because of the pain you know – "

"Oh, Sue, no it's not that. It wasn't my first time. I had a boyfriend earlier in the year, and one before that – but that's beside the point. The thing is, I've never… Well, you know. I've never had an orgasm before," Hermione's voice dipped as she whispered the last bit of her confession, and wrung her hands as she looked at her friend. "It's just, it's so different with Draco! I may as well have never had sex before, because I have no point of reference! I've tried to read sex health books, but they're all written by old men, and I've never liked romance novels because they're so unrealistic –" Hermione broke off and her gaze became unfocused as she accessed some literary memory. Sue wondered what kind of books Hermione HAD read, because the girl suddenly blushed bright red, and said, "Ohh, THAT'S what that was!"

Sue laughed again. "So I take it you two have been having a good time?" she asked.

Hermione nodded sheepishly. "Sue, I don't even know if I can explain it right. It's like everything has changed. I've changed. It's like a filter that covered the world around me has been lifted, and I can see things so much more clearly. I just feel so connected to him, it's like a bond, I guess… I think, I mean I know that I love him, but I think maybe that he's the ONE, you know? I just can't see myself feeling this way about anyone else. He's IT for me, and it's just the craziest, most insane feeling I've ever felt in my life. It's like this outside force, bigger than me, has been moving me towards this my entire life, and now that I'm here, it's like all the puzzle pieces are falling into place. I mean, is it just some biological side-effect of the orgasms doing this? I never expected… Does this happen to everyone or am I just turning into a complete sap? Oh, for goodness sake, I'm not making any sense am I?" Hermione cried as she threw her hands up in the air.

"Of course you're making sense, Hermione! You're in love and you're doing what God intended for you to do. Of course it feels like the puzzle pieces are falling into place. What do you think Shaun and I feel about our love? Ambivalence does not make a marriage, dear." Sue took Hermione by the shoulders and steered her back towards the window. Draco was sitting on the grass with the girls, his hands flying through the air as he told them a story.

"What do you see when you look out there, Hermione?" Sue asked.

"You mean besides my boyfriend and your daughters freezing their arses off?"

Sue giggled. "Yes, besides that. What do those people mean to you? What do you see when you look at them?"

"I see two adorable little munchkins that are much beloved by their parents and adored everyone they meet, and I see my best friend," Hermione said with a smile.

"That's good! Those are good answers. Do you want to know what I see?" Sue asked. Hermione nodded.

"I see my two daughters, who are the physical manifestation of the lifelong commitment I've made with my husband, who I love more than anyone on Earth. And I see the father of your children, God willing," Sue said softly.

Hermione's eyes bugged and she gasped at the implication. "Sue, it's not, I mean… I can't even think about something like that right now! I'm only twenty, and Draco's nineteen!"

"Those numbers do change with time, Hermione. I didn't say you've got to have babies now, I just said that's who I see sitting outside. Sex is the creative force that shapes this world Hermione. It's God's gift to us to share with the one we love. You should consider yourself lucky that you found the one you're meant to spend the rest of your life with at such a young age. There are so many sad people in the world that never find the right person. Look at Renny. He had to raise young Renton alone because he mistook lust for love and committed to the wrong woman. You and Draco are well matched, and while you're young, you are both fully mature and capable of making a lifelong commitment with each other. Of course you feel different, of course you feel like everything has changed! It has! Is that so bad?" Sue turned Hermione to face her, and, seeing that the younger girl was shaking, pulled her into a motherly embrace.

"These things are the things that your Mum would have told you, and I'm sorry that she's not able to experience this with you, Hermione. But know that you're heading in the right direction, and that your parents would be proud to see you settling down with someone who suits you as well as Draco does."

Something odd clicked deep inside Hermione's heart, and she sighed in relief as she returned her friend's hug.

"Thank you, Sue. You make a good Mum, you know," she said as her shaking slowed and her heart rate returned to normal. Sue laughed.  
"Shaun has always said that I was born to be a Mum. It's nice to get some practice in now for the later years. I have a feeling those two are going to run us spare." Sue handed Hermione a bandage for her cut finger. "Right about now, my Mum-ometer says that within the next ten minutes my girls and your man will turn into popsicles, so I think I'll put on some water for cocoa. You want some, or would you rather wine?"

Hermione opted for the wine, and applauded her friend when, exactly eight minutes later, a laughing Draco suddenly burst through the kitchen door with a small girl tucked under each arm.

"Oh, my silly girls, your lips are turning purple! You're nearly frozen all the way through! Do you think some hot cocoa would warm you up?" Sue asked as she helped her girls out of their coats. Ellie and Rosie jumped up and down and clapped their hands, squealing, "Cocoa! Cocoa! MARSHMALLOWS!" as Draco made his way over to a smiling Hermione.

"Everything all right, Little Girl? You're pale," he whispered as he touched her cheek with one freezing cold hand, then leaned in to nuzzle her neck with the tip of his frozen nose.

Hermione shuddered at the chilly contact, but rested her own hand on top of his as she replied, "No, nothing's wrong. Everything is perfect." She smiled shyly at the man who'd completely and utterly stolen her heart, and thanked God for the gift He'd given her.

/…../

Later that evening, Draco peeled her clothes off and gently settled her onto their bed. Hermione watched with wide eyes as Draco knelt between her legs and brushed against her sex with his tongue, giving her his gift of love before he rose over her to claim his own release. As he pushed inside her, Hermione reached up and grasped his face in her hands.

"I love you," she whispered fiercely, and dragged him down into her kiss.

"I love you," she panted as Draco rolled them over to pull her astride him.

"I love you!" she wailed as he rocked her gently into delicious, mind bending oblivion.

Afterwards, as he tucked her into his side so she could use his bicep as a pillow, she laid her hand over his heart and said, "I love you, Draco."

Draco sighed contentedly, and picked her hand up to kiss her palm before resting their entwined fingers back on his chest. "I know, Love. And I thank God for it every day."

To Be Continued.


	19. Chapter 19 Horror Stories

**Author's Note: I own no person, no place, no thing – except the plot! If you recognize it, it probably belongs to Ms. Rowling or some other awesome super-human**.

**P.S.: There's a song drifting around in the world that is the theme for my Draco is this story. I listened to it a lot as I was writing and editing this chapter. Beg Steal or Borrow by Ray LaMontagne and the Pariah Dogs (2010, God Willin' & the Creek Don't Rise) ajc**

**Chapter 19 Horror Stories**

"So, young Renton, what are you getting Lindy for Christmas this year? First Christmases are always important to the girls, you know…" Shaun joked with his newlywed friend as he scratched Radagast's belly.

Michael piped in from his spot on Renny's sofa, even though his eyes never left the rugby match on the telly. "It sets a standard for future holidays, so don't go overboard. I made the huge error of getting Winnie a diamond necklace our first Christmas together. The next year I got her a new vacuum cleaner – which she'd been drooling over for months, mind you, and cost more than the bloody necklace to boot - and you'd have thought I'd just killed her Mum," he said.

"Mike, you idiot, you're supposed to save the diamonds for the fiftieth anniversary or some such shite. You should have got her the vacuum your first year," Shaun said as he flicked a bit of popcorn at the back of Michael's head. Radagast pounced on the rebound before it could hit the floor, and Shaun chuckled and applauded his good catch.

Young Renton looked between his father and his two older, happily married friends, and shrugged his shoulders in bewilderment. "I haven't got a bloody clue," he said morosely. "I don't have a lot of spare cash since we just bought the house, but I'd been thinking of getting her new pots for the kitchen. She's been wanting some, you know? But I don't want to piss her off!"

Michael groaned, "Don't do it, mate! For the love of all that's holy, spare me the agony of having to find yet another new bass player!"

Renny and Draco, who had their heads bent over Draco's now much-worn Yamaha catalog, looked up at the sound of Shaun and young Renton's laughter. It had taken Michael only five minutes to replace his former bass player, since young Renton and Lindy bought a house in Little Whinging not far from Renny, and he'd grown up playing music with his Dad.

Young Renton looked over at the only male in the room younger than him, hoping for inspiration, or at least to divert the peer pressure to someone else. "Oi, Draco, what are you getting Hermione for Christmas? First Christmases are important I hear. They set a standard, you know," he said sagely.

"Ah, young Renton, you should know by now that I'm not a good person to ask. After all, I apparently bought Hermione a wildy expensive sedan after we'd been dating a week," Draco said, tongue-in-cheek. Michael, Shaun and Renny groaned in amused shame.

"Let it go, mate!"

"Blimey, we apologized already!"

"Come on, Draco, Hermione's only just stopped beating on me about that! She hits bloody hard!"

Draco laughed, batted away the popcorn that flew from three directions at him, and rose to grab a couple of fresh beers from Renny's refrigerator. He patted Radagast on the head as the happy dog cleaned the popcorn off the floor, then Draco popped the tops on both of the beers and handed one to young Renton, who nodded his thanks.

"So, what are you getting her then, really?" Young Renton asked.

"I'm betting on books!" Shaun cried, which caused the others to chuckle.

"It'd better be a ring, Draco. I'm getting rather tired of having to lie to the matrons of our church that I don't notice our unmarried violinist coming in every Sunday looking freshly, thoroughly, shagged. Seriously, mate, get it under control!" Michael said as he finally turned away from the rugby match. Draco good-naturedly took up Shaun's previous activity of pelting the pastor with popcorn.

"No, oh fearless Christian Leader, I am not getting her a ring for Christmas, because it's going to take more than a couple months of cohabitation and near-constant sex to convince my little superhero to give up her elite Granger status and become a Malfoy." Draco said glibly, and ducked out of the way of another round of popcorn as the others groaned in varying levels of disgust.

Once Draco had brushed the popcorn bits out of his hair and shirt and handed them off to Radagast, he continued. "Now, in answer to young Renton's question, I've actually arranged a two-week tour through Italy. You know Hermione, she's been rabid to get out and explore Europe's historical sites. I know enough Italian and I've been around Italy enough that we should be able to handle it ourselves with a guidebook and Hermione's historical interests as a compass."

Shaun whistled. "Nice job, Malfoy. She'll love that." The others nodded their agreement.

"So where'd you learn Italian? The Aprilia catalog? Or was it the Ducati one?" Renny joked as he held up two of the much handled motorbike catalogs sitting on the table in front of him. Draco grinned at the joke and snagged the two ridiculously sexy catalogs from his friend.

"No, incidentally my best friend growing up was Italian, and I spent parts of my summers every year at his family's villa on the Amalfi coast," Draco said as he absently flipped through the pages until he found his favorite model in each catalog, then lined them up with his Yamaha of choice. Time was coming to make his final decision, as he'd be able to get his certification in the next week.

"Will you two stay at your friend's place? It certainly sounds well situated for a certain little history scholar we all know and love."

Draco hummed as he scratched Radagast's head, and then turned the Aprilia catalog sideways, trying to determine if the Italian bike would be the one… "Oh, no. Blaise's family disappeared at the beginning of the War. I've got an investigator looking for them-"

"War?"

"What war?"

"There was a war in Italy?!"

"Did I miss something?"

Draco froze. Cripes, what a tremendous fuck up.

All levity flew from the room at Draco's unexpected slip. Renny muted the telly as all eyes landed on Draco's stiff form and drawn expression. Draco dropped his head into his hands and thought for a moment. A small part of him observed that Hermione had indeed been right, that his hair indeed stuck straight out that grew around the x-shaped scar he'd picked up several months ago. He needed to get it cut again so he wouldn't look bloody lopsided. The majority of him, however, was thinking that what he really needed right now was a bottle of Ogden's Finest.

Michael, Shaun and young Renton all gathered around the table, the rugby match forgotten, as they sat with Renny and watched the newest member of their circle of friends wrestle with his thoughts. Finally, Renny got up and retrieved a bottle of single-malt scotch from his sideboard, along with a tray of ice and a handful of glasses.

"So, Mr. Malfoy, are you finally willing to tell us about the mob War you and Hermione were involved in earlier this year?" Michael asked quietly.

Draco's head shot up. His eyes narrowed as he scrutinized his pastor, who silently passed him a glass with a finger's width of honey colored liquid in the bottom.

"Maybe you'd at least be willing to tell us how Hermione was able to effectively - and quite callously, I might add - trounce a man nearly twice her size, and hasn't even needed a tick of counseling afterwards. Or why you two don't seem to have any friends or family anymore outside of the people you've met here in Little Whinging. Or why you treat the memory of one Mister Harry Potter like one would a saint?"

Draco blanched at Michael's words. He looked around at the others. Shaun and Renny looked resolute, young Renton, curious, but Michael looked like a man on a mission.

Draco sighed. "You can try to interrogate me all you want, Michael, but there are some things, as I've told you lot before, that I just cannot tell you. I'm not trying to sound like some cool tough guy or anything, it's just what it is. Nothing you throw at me or threaten me with will make me tell you shite you simply cannot know."

"I'm not here to interrogate you Draco. For goodness sake, we're friends! I just want to know if the cryptic odds and ends that you and Hermione have mentioned actually should mean something to us. Are you in hiding? Are you in trouble? Is anyone going to come looking for you that we should be lying to?" Michael asked with such genuine concern that it surprised Draco. These… these men – Draco rarely used the term 'Muggle' anymore, as there weren't a lot of the _other_ kind of people around to necessitate the distinction – these men surrounding him were such friendly, kind, innocent souls, really. They had no idea the kind of savage world Draco and Hermione had come of age in. And Draco damn sure didn't want to enlighten them.

But curiosity was a killer. And Draco and Hermione, despite their best efforts, were drowning in their secrets. Especially after that fucker Sutton had tried his stunt in the Park last month and exposed Hermione as a God-damned ninja. Draco picked up the proffered drink and threw it back, noting pleasantly how similar the single-malt was in smoothness to Ogden's Finest.

Huzzah, a decent liquor had been found. Draco made a note to buy a case of it on his way home.

"You don't know what a relief it is to spend time around people who don't know who you are, and who judge you solely based on your own behavior, and not that of your family," Draco began as he rolled the glass back and forth in his hands.

"If you lot knew and truly understood what kind of person my Father was – is – and what kind of madness and havoc he's reaped on this world, you'd probably invite me to leave Little Whinging and never return – or maybe you'd just find a way to quietly kill me and leave my body to the crows. But the thing is, I'm not my Father. And very, very few people understand that. Hermione does. Potter did. Not many others," Draco sighed again, wishing for what felt like the hundredth time in the past few weeks that Mafalda would just hurry up and find Blaise Zabini. He was truly desperate for his old friend right now.

Draco stood up, and pulled his jumper over his head. Then, while the other men stared at him in confusion, he started unbuttoning his oxford.

"Blimey Draco, do I need to put on some music for you or something?" Renny joked, and they all chuckled.

"No, no music needed today, Ren. I want to show you all something, but it's not something I'm terribly proud of." He turned around as he slipped his shirt off his shoulders, exposing his back to them. Something that Hermione had never minded, and in truth she rarely even noticed, since her back was in similar shape, was the fact that Draco Malfoy's back was littered with stripes. A lifetime under his Father's rearing had heaped layers and layers of scars on Draco, but the physical ones were much easier to explain than the psychological ones.

"My Father is a monster, and I was raised with a whip on my back," Draco said as his mates gasped in shock and horror. "I'm not the son of the Devil though. I'm merely the son of the Devil's right hand. But if you ever need more proof than my back, just look at Hermione's." Draco turned back to his companions and sat back down, beckoning to Michael for the bottle to pour another drink.

"So, you're, what? The son of an abusive mob leader?" Michael asked.

"Ahh, I guess at its crudest you could describe it like that. I come from a very old, very wealthy, very powerful family. My family's holdings in the UK alone are worth nearly a billion Pounds, and that's above-the-board, legitimate business and property holdings. When I come of age in four and a half years and take over the reins of the family, I'll be able to start cleaning out the more unsavory elements. In the meantime, the, ah, the government has frozen my family's holdings so that they can't be manipulated by any of my Father's more clandestine business associations."

The four men sitting opposite Draco all sat in various stages of boggled silence.

"Uh, should I keep going or just stop right there and quietly make my exit from Little Whinging?" Draco asked wryly.

"Er," Michael said, then coughed. "Er, no, it's all right Draco, you can continue." Shaun, Renny and young Renton nodded silently.

"All right… So, well, as of three or so generations ago, the patriarchs of my family started getting ideas about racial purity – no doubt we can blame some of this on that freak Hitler – and as such began campaigning for better pedigrees in the family's choices of business associates, friends, and most of all, spouses. As a matter of fact, if the War that I'd rather not tell you about hadn't happened and my father was still free, I'd be getting forcibly married off by next summer to a third cousin of mine who I've been betrothed to since I was five. Don't tell Hermione that, by the way, she knows the girl and loathes her, as do I." Draco gave a full body shudder, and his companions laughed at the look of disgust on Draco's face.

"I take it you aren't bound to the girl anymore?" Renny asked.

"Not if I have anything to do with it. I think technically I'd probably be bound to it once I turn twenty-four and take over as the head of my family, but with my Father in prison and our assets frozen I can't see Astoria's family being eager to press our – Gak! Ugh, sorry, - union. Regardless, I hope to be married to Hermione long before then, which would render that entire betrothal fiasco moot, thank God."

"So you do have noble intentions towards our violinist?" Michael piped up eagerly. More popcorn rained down on the Pastor, who rolled his eyes and popped Shaun on the back of the head. "Oi, I'm fully within my rights as his and Hermione's Pastor to antagonize them about this, especially since they're now shamelessly living together and apparently can't keep their bedroom activities a bit more private. Seriously, Draco, tone it down, mate!"

Draco chuckled. "You'll have to talk to Hermione about that, Michael. She just can't keep her hands off me, especially Sunday mornings!"

Michael and the other men groaned in mock horror yet again, and Renny reached over to pour himself a finger's width of scotch. He gulped down half of it, shuddered, then pointed his finger at Draco.

"You're a good friend, Malfoy, but Hermione's younger than my son, and I nearly lost my lunch there. Please spare me the details of your sex life!"

Draco grinned wickedly at his friend, and quipped, "What's wrong, Ren, did Shaun tell you that I'm applying for Sainthood?"

Shaun burst into huge guffaws of laughter and consequently fell off his chair. Draco shook his head at the others as he said, "Don't worry, inside joke. You don't want to know."

"Well, now that we're all good and traumatized, can we get back to the real subject? That subject being you and Hermione and this mysterious mob war?" Renny asked, finishing his scotch with another shudder.

"Yeh, and put your shirt back on, mate. Your creepy pirate tattoos are freaking me out. I swear that damned parrot's staring at me," young Renton joked as he pointed at Draco's left shoulder.

Draco looked down at his arm in shock. "Pirate tattoos?! That's a phoenix, you twit. And this," he pointed at the skull and serpent, "is called a… well. Hmm. Okay, this actually brings us back into the subject quite nicely. This was forced on me shortly after I turned sixteen. It's the symbol of my Father's master's organization. My Father wanted me at his side, and offered me up like a damned birthday gift to his master. All of their members had one, all in the same place. It's awful isn't it?" Draco mused as he pulled his arm back from the center of the table where he'd laid it out to show the others. He reached back to pull his shirt off the back of his chair so he could cover himself up as he continued.

"So, my Father's master had roughly two hundred people in his organization. Their agenda was to overthrow the British government and cleanse the country of… I don't know how else to say it… commoners… with any sort of power or property. Their plan was to re-establish something that resembled the old feudal systems of old England, with a proper King and court. All non-nobility was to be killed off or enslaved. The plan was to use extreme force to bring the country to its knees. Do you lot remember that story a couple years ago about that bridge that collapsed in London? Or the mystery virus that wiped out those villages up north? Or the never-seen tornadoes that ripped up several towns all over Great Britain?"

Draco received four nods, accompanied by various stages of shock. Young Renton was the first to pipe in. "Are you saying that some terrorist mafia did that shite? Killed all those families?"

Draco nodded.

"But, Draco, why wasn't that in the news? And why were you and Hermione, who would have been just kids still when that all happened, even involved instead of the military?" Michael asked with a frown.

Draco frowned in return. Coming up with vague generalities to describe what had gone on in the Second Wizarding War that wouldn't violate the International Statute of Secrecy was a bugger. But these men deserved some kind of truth. He had no doubt that it would further help Draco protect his and Hermione's privacy as well as their freedom to entrust these men with at least some of his and Hermione's secrets. Minus the magic, of course.

"The government didn't want to cause pandemonium, or give regular citizens cause to start thinking of arming themselves against door-to-door psychotics. Two hundred wealthy, pissed off racists don't make an army, according to the English government, and a private opposition army had already organized against them. Local police were involved at each attack, but honestly, can you imagine what would have happened if the military openly started marching through every city? We're talking about a civil war in England. It's the twenty-first century, and the government couldn't allow that to come to public knowledge. So, there were sixty or so of us in all that opposed my Father's group. I was rescued from my Father and recruited to the opposition army by my godfather, and Hermione was recruited by default because Potter was her best friend. See, Potter's family was part of the same, er, social class, as my family, but they were on the side that pushed to maintain equality and freedom of all social classes. Potter's parents were killed by my Father's master because he wanted to end that line – end that opposition within the upper class. Ugh, does that make any sense?" Draco broke off his narrative and rubbed his hand over his face as his four companions chimed in.

"No!"

"Yes. Wait, no. Are you saying Harry Potter was actually some aristocratic leader of a private army?"

"I have no idea."

"Wait, this happened in England?"

Draco banged his forehead down on the table in frustration. The scotch was kicking in, and he was afraid his tongue would loosen up too much. He really couldn't hold Muggle liquor for shite. He lifted his head and propped his chin in his hands.

"Look, there's not much more I can tell you lot, outside the fact that Hermione and I were recruited while we were still in school, we fought with Potter and the rest of the, well, the good guys, and we worked with the approval and support of the British government to bring down my Father's group as quickly and quietly as possible. But still, it took us two years, and a lot of people died, including Potter, my Mother, my cousin and her husband, et cetera et cetera. Hermione and I are bound to keep this information to ourselves because of our positions within the, well, I guess the military. And we're here in Little Whinging because we're trying to start over with a modicum of privacy. Not that either of us expected to meet the other here, that was just fortune smiling on my extremely lucky arse." Draco smiled wryly at the others, who were still staring at him in varying stages of confusion.

"Sorry, mates. That's really all I can tell you," he said, and held his hands out, palms up in supplication. "Other than that, I have to beg you lot to just trust us. We're the good guys, and we won the fight. All the bad guys that we know of were rounded up and imprisoned, like my Father, or killed outright, like my Father's master."

"So… you and Hermione aren't in hiding? Witness protection or some such rubbish?" Renny asked.

Draco grinned at his older friend. "Nope. We're not in hiding, Ren, we're retired!"

/…../

_Seven months earlier…_

Hermione felt the invisible rope cutting into her ankle as she swung back and forth with the agony of trying to take a breath. She coughed again, spattering blood across the face of her companion in torture, who was similarly upside down and hanging only inches away directly in front her.

"Merlin's balls, Granger! Stop hacking blood all over my face!" Draco growled as he wiped Hermione's blood off his lips and chin.

Hermione winced and groaned. "Sorry… Malfoy… It's not like I've got a… damned choice here. Broken rib… I think it's stuck in my… lung-" she panted, but was cut off by another agonized cough that she barely managed to cover with her hand.

"Cripes, stops wriggling around then, idiot. You're just making it worse, and you'll end up fucking drowning," Draco snapped, and reached out with his right hand to grab her by her shaking shoulder to hold her still.

"Where'd… he… go? Can… you see… anything?" Hermione gasped.

"Don't know. I can see the stairwell behind you, and out the window next to it, but I think we're in one of the tower attic spaces, which means we've got to be at least seven stories up in the air. I'm surprised we can hear any of the fight from here. Don't try to twist around, you stupid bint! Ugh!" Draco covered his face as Hermione was overcome by a wracking cough when she'd tried to twist to see out the window behind her.

"Sorry! Fuck… this hurts! Theo's Dad… is… an… arsehole… Malfoy!" Hermione groaned as she wiped her mouth and tried to blink the stars out of her eyes. Her vision was getting rather loopy and swoopy, and all the blood in her head combined with the pain in her body was starting to overwhelm her senses.

"No shite, Granger. That man's a diseased sociopath, I'm not even sure he's human… Wait – did you just say fuck? Holy shit, Granger! You just said fuck! I think I'm finally starting to rub off on you!" Draco crowed in mock delight to distract his waxy-faced companion from what looked like imminent unconsciousness. "Oi, Granger, no passing out. Hang in there, Potter should have us all fixed up soon enough. Ugh! Stop bleeding on me!" Draco complained as she coughed weakly again.

"Sorry…" Hermione groaned.

"Whatever, Granger. All right, since you're spitting your blood all over me, I'll just give you some of mine so you can fully appreciate just how utterly disgusting that is." Draco wiped a finger through the blood dripping out of a cut on his forehead and rubbed it across her cheek.

"Cut it out… Malfoy… I'm not… interested… in some bloody… blood… bonding…" Hermione trailed off as she blinked a few more times.

Draco reached down, grabbed her left hand, and tugged her closer to him.

"Granger! Hey! Granger! Hermione! Don't pass out. It's got to be coming to an end soon, and you need to be awake to catch yourself when we fall," Draco commanded.

"Fuuuuck," Hermione groaned, then tensed up and coughed again.

"Damn it! Granger! Gods that's bloody disgusting. Here you go then, have some more of mine, you cow," Draco snapped as he wiped more of Hermione's blood off his mouth, then took another swipe across his forehead and rubbed it across Hermione's other cheek.

"Arsehole… cut it out," Hermione whined, but she was too tired to wipe his blood off her face. Instead, she concentrated on evaluating the extent of her injuries. "My back… hurts," she said. "Did Nott… use a real… whip… or his wand?"

"Wand. Sorry Granger. That's a fun little spell my dear old Dad invented and taught to all his friends. You and I will be carrying these scars around for the rest of our lives. How many did you get?" Draco asked.

"Uh… I think… fourteen…" Hermione said.

"You girls always get it so easy. Miserable wanker gave me twenty," Draco groused.

"Are yours… bleeding?" Hermione asked.

"Um, possibly. Maybe in one or two places. I've got so much scar tissue on my back it's hard to open it up anymore. Thanks be to Lucius Fuckface Malfoy, I guess. Bet yours is a mess, huh?"

Hermione winced. "Yeh, it's hard to… move my… right arm. I think… I've… got some superficial… muscle… damage." Another choking cough overwhelmed her, and even though she tried to swing away from Draco, she still managed to catch him in the face since he was still holding her left hand.

"All right, that's it!" Draco wiped his mouth off for the twentieth time, and once again rubbed his fingers through the cut on his forehead. He reached out and drew a smiley face on Hermione's forehead with his blood.

"There you go, three times blood exchanged. Now we'll be best friends forever, Granger. Aren't you the lucky girl?" Draco chuckled as Hermione stuck her tongue out at him.

"You're… so… immature… Malfoy. You'd better not… cast… any blood… magic on me."

"Why not? You keep spitting your blood all over me, and what else am I supposed to do with my free time while I'm hanging upside down? I think all I have to do now is seal it with a kiss, and you're all mine," Draco mused, and laughed as Hermione flinched. "I'm just kidding, Granger. I didn't cast a spell on you. You're a nice girl and all, but I don't think I want to spend the rest of my life bound to you. If anything I'm pretty sure your Weasel would get awfully pissy if I stole you from him."

"Like you… could… steal me… Ferret…" Hermione mumbled.

To Be Continued.

**Author's Note: Sometimes when I'm having a bad writing day, I go back and read all my amazing reviews from you lovely people. Your insight, suppositions and encouragement - and especially the shameless flattery - are a balm to my stubborn imagination. Suddenly – POOF – I'm inspired again, and the words and ideas flow from me to you. ajc**


	20. Chapter 20 Perfect

**Author's Note: I own no person, no place, no thing – except the plot! If you recognize it, it probably belongs to Ms. Rowling or some other awesome super-human**.

**P.S.: Smut Alert. What can I say? They like each other. ajc**

**Chapter 20 Perfect**

Hermione stretched her arms up into the air as she flexed her legs and arched her feet, relishing in that hazy, early morning pleasure of rousing from a night of deep, restorative sleep. She'd dreamt about the War last night, but unlike so many other nights, it hadn't been a nightmare, just flashes of memories from when she and Draco had been tied up and beaten during the final battle. She realized with a sudden shock that it was in that tower that she'd first held Draco's hand. They'd clung to each other for more than two hours before help finally arrived in the form of Nott Senior's death somewhere out on the grounds of Hogwarts, which instantly dissolved their invisible bindings. Hermione had crashed to the floor, startled by the agonizing snap of her ankle. That damned Death Eater was a sociopath, but fortunately for Hermione, her companion was not. Draco managed to swing himself under her, and she'd collapsed onto his chest instead of the stone floor.

That was where her dream cut off, because she couldn't really remember anything after that. Her injuries compounded with the sudden change in blood pressure managed to knock her out for the next few hours. When she'd awoken, Harry was gone, Draco was under house-arrest, and she was in St. Mungo's.

Draco's right arm reached up into the air to catch her right hand and drag it down to his mouth so that he could kiss the inside of her wrist. Hermione smiled and rolled in the direction he'd tugged her, and draped herself across Draco's chest.

"Good morning," she said to her sleepy boyfriend. Draco, as usual, only had one eye open. It blinked a couple of times, then gave up and slid shut.

"Morning… Girl," he mumbled. His arms came up and wrapped around her, and he tugged her further up onto his body. "Mmmmm…" he moaned as he rubbed his naked hips against hers.

Hermione giggled. "Draco, you're not even awake yet."

"Mmm… awake enough…" he mumbled, and reached down to pull her thighs apart for easy access. Hermione wiggled and squirmed around just enough to get the tip of his erection at her entrance, then rolled her hips, and _voila! _ He was in. Hermione gasped at the delicious stretching of her inner muscles, and tried to sit up, but Draco locked his arms around her back to keep her pinned to his chest.

"Don't move," he commanded, so Hermione relaxed against him and laid her head on his shoulder. She couldn't help but wriggle a little, craving the friction of movement where their bodies were connected. Draco grunted, and his eyes snapped open to glare in faux irritation at his girlfriend.

"Do you mind?" he said. "I'm trying to sleep in comfort here."

Hermione smiled innocently. "Oh, so sorry, darling. I was just trying to get comfortable." And she wriggled again, pushing down against him as she rocked her hips, once, twice. Draco hissed and grabbed her hips. He ground his pelvis into hers, and Hermione groaned as he bucked against that most sensitive spot –

"Oooh…" she whined as a jolt of pleasure shot through her.

"You like that, don't you?" he whispered in her ear as he pushed against her again.

"Oh, God yes," she panted, and grabbed his shoulders to hold on as he rolled their bodies so he could lie on top of her.

"My favorite way to start the morning," Draco whispered against her mouth as he flicked his hips forward and back a few times. Hermione nodded her head in agreement, and closed her eyes so she could concentrate on the spikes of heat and lust that were coursing through her to the beat of Draco's thrusts.

Draco rose up onto his knees and dragged Hermione's hips up with him. "Don't close your eyes, Love. I want to see your eyes," he panted. Hermione opened her eyes wide at his declaration, and gazed in surprise at Draco. "You have such beautiful eyes, Hermione. I love your eyes," he said by way of explanation. He dragged his thumb across his lip as he watched Hermione turn pink with an aroused flush that spread across her face and down her neck. He licked his thumb, wetting it thoroughly, then reached down and stroked her tiny clit. Hermione arched her back and bit her lip to hold back a moan of agonized pleasure.

Draco backed out of her, leaving her body entirely so he could tease her into her orgasm. He opened her legs as wide as they would go and rubbed at her center, spreading her slickness around and around with his thumb as she groaned and shuddered.

"Look at you, my beautiful Girl," he whispered. Hermione locked eyes with him, and his heart tripped at the half-crazed lust and deep love he saw reflected there. "Look at how much you want me," he said as he rubbed at her slippery heat. He gathered the wetness against his fingers as she watched, and then stroked his erection with his slick hand. "Look at how much I want you," he continued. Hermione threw her head back and wailed as his thumb circled faster and faster, bringing her to a frenzied release just as Draco plunged himself deep inside her.

"Do you know how much I love you?" he whispered as he leaned back down to kiss her. Hermione grabbed his face and kissed him passionately as he rocked into her.

"At least… ohhh… at least as much as I love you," she said against his mouth.

"Yesss… Love. I love how much you love me. Nobody… has ever loved me like you do," Draco whispered urgently in her ear as he sped up. He was so close –

"Nobody… will. You're mine… Draco! Oh, please!" Hermione begged as she wrapped her legs tightly around his backside. The pleasure built up to that delicious peak of liquid fire and she came… so hard…

Draco gasped as her body tightened around him, and let go of his restraint so he could follow her.

Quiet moments later, Hermione stroked her fingers through the sweaty hair of the head that rested on her belly. Draco was stretched across the bed, using her stomach as a pillow.

"You're right, you know," Hermione said quietly.

"Naturally. What about?"

Hermione sighed as she curved her fingers around his ear and down his neck. "Nobody has ever loved me like you do. And I love that. I love the way you love me," she replied. Draco lifted his head so he could see her face.

"And nobody ever will. You're mine too, you know. I'm not going to stop loving you, Hermione. You're perfect for me. This is it, Little Girl." He rose up and leaned over her so he could kiss her. "You and me. We're IT. You know that, right?"

Hermione's heart jumped into her throat, and she gasped as his words detonated inside her brain. Two tiny tears streaked out of the corners of her eyes as she nodded her head.

"I know. I've known for a while, Draco," she whispered.

Draco searched her face in wonder as her words sank into him. "When did you know?" he asked with a small smile. He rubbed at the tears that ran into her hair, and leaned in for another kiss.

Hermione sighed against his mouth. "The first time you kissed me," she confessed. "It was like… I don't know. We just fit. Like a puzzle piece that I'd been missing finally fell into place. You're perfect for me. It was like we were made for each other. You kissed me and I knew I'd never kiss anyone else ever again." She met his eyes, and was surprised to see that he was smirking.

"What?" she asked.

"That's when I knew too. Same thing exactly. It took me a while to figure out what it meant, but it was like my entire fucked up life finally made sense. You're right. You're perfect for me, Hermione Granger. And I got to thinking, you know. I think we made ourselves perfect for each other a long time ago." Draco pushed her wayward hair off her forehead and kissed her again before he settled onto his side, facing her. She rolled onto her side so that she could face him as well.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Well, if you think about it from here, it kind of seems like we spent our entire childhoods trying to one-up each other. Academically, that's obvious. I never would have even cared about being top of our class if it hadn't been for you busting my balls every step of the way. But there's the other little things too, all the dumb shit we did just to get each other's attention," Draco mused as he absently wound a lock of her hair around his index finger.

"Well," Hermione began thoughtfully. "I grant you the academic part freely. I've never met anyone that can keep up with me like you can. You don't even seem to mind when I blather and babble about one odd thing or another."

Draco smiled as he tapped the end of her nose. "No, I don't mind, Love. I think it's cute."

"Well, there you go. I think most people find me to be rather annoying."

"I don't know about that, Hermione. Maybe when we were kids, but not now. All of our friends here adore you," Draco pointed out. "And besides that, I was rather annoying as a child as well."

Hermione grinned. "Yes, yes you were."

Draco rolled his eyes. He pointed at her. "Pot." Then he pointed at himself. "Kettle." Hermione giggled.

"Seriously though, then there's Quidditch," Draco listed.

Hermione frowned. "What about Quidditch?"

"Well, I wouldn't have cared that much either way about being the absolute best Seeker Slytherin House had seen in a hundred years if it hadn't been for Potter. And he was just an extension of you, the witch I was absolutely determined to outperform in every aspect of school life. Since you weren't a flier –"

Hermione chuffed. "Obviously. It's bloody un-natural."

"Ahem. As I was saying, since you were born with stone limbs that are incapable of flight, and Potter had already gone out of his way to piss me off numerous times, I simply _had _ to beat him to prove that Purebloods were better than you. And of course I wanted your eyes on me while I did it. In the end, all I succeeded in doing was making myself strong enough to fight side by side with you. And then there's my personal library. Don't tell me you haven't noticed that the bookshelves are groaning under the weight of our combined collections. I never would have begun collecting books if it hadn't been for all that time I spent in the Library at school, trying to keep up with you. Which brings me to the idea that I never would have considered taking a job as a Librarian if it hadn't been for your influence. And I happen to know that you find my profession rather appealing."

Hermione blushed. "Well, you have me there, Malfoy. I do find it very ironic and charming that you are a Librarian. But I never would have thought of the Quidditch thing with Harry. You're right though. I wouldn't have given a hoot about Harry's flying if it hadn't been for you. Because of YOU I went to all those ridiculous matches. And I watched you the entire time to make sure you didn't do anything nasty."

"I know you did. I could feel your eyes burning holes into the back of my uniform at every match. Don't think I didn't get a cheap thrill out of that. And I probably wouldn't have done half the crazy stunts I did on the field if it hadn't been for you."

"Showing off?" Hermione asked as she cocked an eyebrow.

"I wouldn't have admitted to that back then. If forced, I would have said that I was proving irrefutably that I was better than Potter. Because I wanted your eyes on me, not on him. You know, I probably wouldn't have given Potter such a hard time in school in general if it hadn't been for you being his best friend. Well, you and the damn Weasel. God, I hated him. And you were just this small, wild and angry thing, spitting and hissing every time I got close to you. As a child I was not used to being denied anything. And I couldn't have you. So I had to hate you with every fiber of my being. And then there's the thing with the girls…" Draco trailed off with a wicked smirk.

Hermione stiffened. "What do you mean, the girls?"

Draco shrugged one shoulder casually. "Only that all my girlfriends in school were the exact opposite of you. Dumb, pliable, straight-haired purebloods. I'm surprised Blaise and Theo didn't jump up on the dining table in the Great Hall and shout 'Thou doth protest too much, methinks!' or some such nonsense. I do recall Blaise especially would roll his eyes every time I went on a rant about you. Hmm…"

Hermione's eyes drifted vacantly as she pondered Draco's words. She tapped her fingers on her hip as she considered, and then blurted out, "One of the things that I liked best about Ronald was how much you two hated each other. He was the opposite of you. Ron was the anti-Draco! Damn it!" She groaned and slapped her hand over her eyes as she continued. "I was always trying to get a rise out of you. I knew how much you hated it that I was better than you in class, and it drove me to push even harder in my studies. And I loved goading you! I knew you were listening every time I showed my good grades to Harry and Ron. And when you joined the Order, I think the main reason why I befriended you when the others wouldn't was because I just _knew _ it would piss you off."

"Oh, it did. But then we got teamed up together all the time because no one else wanted to work with me, and you finally realized how damned charming, brave and devastatingly sexy I am. Then you gave up your magic to be with me and tracked me down here in Little Whinging and just sauntered into my Library like you didn't know I was there…" Draco drifted off as Hermione sat up straight.

"I did not!" She cried indignantly.

"Didn't what? Find me attractive when we were in the Order or didn't follow me to Little Whinging?"

"Neither! Both! Ugh, Draco! I didn't give up my magic to follow you, and I didn't come out here looking for you. I told you before, I thought you'd gone to Europe. I settled here to be close to my parents, and because of Harry." Hermione said as she poked Draco in the chest. Draco grabbed her hand.

"Love, that doesn't make a lot of sense, you know. You settled your parents in Sussex, not Surrey. And by your accounts, Harry hated it here. So there must have been some other reason," Draco insisted.

Hermione shook her head. "There was no reason, Draco. Of the safe places on the map Mafalda showed me, this just jumped out. I guess you could say I acted on instinct and sentimentality. I just wanted to be here while I healed and decided what I really wanted to do with my life. Funnily enough, I didn't really start thinking about leaving the Wizarding Community until after you were gone. But once the option presented itself to me, I never looked back. I brought my parents back from Sydney and bought this place within a month after your trial was over. I tied up the last of my loose ends with the Ministry and the Wizengamot and just left it all behind. But honestly, I didn't even consider checking out the Library here until the waitress from the place around the corner mentioned it." Hermione shrugged. "I guess you could call it divine intervention or something. Whatever it was, I am glad I'm here with you now."

Draco sighed and tugged his girlfriend on top of him as he rolled onto his back. "I'm glad you're here with me too, but doesn't it seem strange when you look at it all like that? Like fate or whatever was guiding us, quite forcefully, to this point? Not that I mind, Love, I just wish we hadn't wasted so much time hurting each other, you know?" He nudged her legs open with an upraised knee, and nestled his cock into the heated curls between her thighs.

Hermione gave a little shudder as he slid into her. "You're not hurting me now," she pointed out.

"No, I'm not," he grunted as he bucked his hips. "That's because we fit perfectly together," he said.

"Yes, we do," Hermione whispered. She kissed him as she tangled their fingers together on either side of his head. "You were made for me," she sighed happily against his mouth.

"No, you were made for me," he replied.

Hermione sat up and stilled their bodies as she shook her finger at him. "Ah, hate to pull the age card, dear, but I am nine months older than you. So, you see, the night I was born, God looked down at me and said 'Well here's an odd little duck. It's going to take quite a unique male to make a compatible partner for her.' And thus, you were obviously conceived solely for my benefit." She smiled winningly and flipped her hair over her shoulder.

"All right, granted. You are an odd little duck, and I am most definitely a unique male. It's rather gratifying to hear you admit it so freely. I also find it very amusing that you made God's caricature voice sound a great deal like Professor Flitwick." Draco grinned at his girlfriend, whose expression suddenly turned gray.

"Hey, what's wrong?" he asked.

Hermione shuddered in horror. "Draco, that's… just… disgusting. Ugh, I can't believe you just mentioned Professor Flitwick while we're like THIS!"

Draco shrugged, sat up and tried to lift her off of his lap. "Well, if you're no longer interested…"

"Wait! _Draco_…" Hermione whined and wrapped her arms around his neck. She wriggled against him, trying to push him back down before their bodies could disconnect. "I didn't say I wanted to stop," she said. "You just can't ever mention You-Know-Who while we're naked. Biggest turn off ever."

"Says the woman who just accidentally mentioned the nickname of the evil villain who ruined both our lives, while we're naked. I see your biggest turn off ever, and raise you tenfold. Yuck, Girl. Just, yuck."

Hermione groaned and dropped her face into her hands, conceding defeat.

/…../

"What time are they coming?" Draco asked as he poured himself a cup of coffee. Hermione was standing at the stove, frying bacon and singing along with the music coming from the living room.

_"Cause nobody loves me_

_It's true_

_Not like you do"_

Draco groaned and shook his head. Hermione and her music. The littlest things would set her off, and she'd start linking words and phrases together, and before he knew it, she'd be singing along with a CD from her vast music collection. Occasionally she'd even pop over to the storage room and uncover her Mum's piano. He'd come home to her playing in there more and more as Christmas got closer.

_"Who am I, what and why_

_'Cause all I have left is my memories of yesterday_

_Oh these sour times"_

Hermione flipped the strips of bacon over as she sang "they'll be here in ten minutes, will you pour me more coffee please?" to the tune of the Portishead song. She suddenly squawked and jumped backwards as a bit of bacon grease popped and burnt her arm.

Draco picked up her mug as he flipped the burner to a lower setting.

"You're going to burn that bacon cooking it at such a high temperature, Girl. Ellie and Rosie are not going to die of starvation if you don't have food on the table as soon as they arrive."

Hermione stuck her tongue out at him, so Draco smacked her bum before turning to refill her coffee cup.

Twenty minutes later, Draco and Hermione waved goodbye to Shaun and Sue, who were going to spend the day getting their Christmas shopping finished sans fairy girls. Ellie and Rosie each sat on a book-boosted chair at the dining table with their napkins tucked into the necks of their shirts. They sang, "Bacon is to bweckfist! Bacon is to bweckfist!" as they banged their forks on their plates.

"All right girls, who wants bacon and eggs on their plates, and who wants a manky old sock instead?" Draco asked as he brought the platter of breakfast to the table. Two little blondes and one brunette called for bacon and eggs as he sat down in his usual space at the head of the table. Hermione smiled slyly at him as he scooped scrambled eggs onto Ellie and Rosie's plates. Draco rolled his eyes. Hermione had made it very clear that she found his interaction with the fairy girls very appealing, and he had no doubt she'd be attacking him before the day was over. It was a good thing the fairy girls still took naps, he mused to himself.

After breakfast was finished, Draco and the girls stood in front of the Christmas tree that he and Hermione had purchased and dragged upstairs the previous afternoon before they'd parted ways for Winnie's baby shower and Draco's evening of confessions at Renny's house. The tree had seemed like a monstrous thing in the stairwell, but now it stood modestly in the far corner of the living room, not quite able to reach the ceiling.

"Okay girls, who wants to help me open the boxes of ornaments while Draco puts the lights on the tree?" Hermione asked as she sat down on the floor out of Draco's way.

"Um, Hermione?" Draco asked.

"Hmm?"

"Need you to wizard this down for me, Love," he said as he looked at the cardboard boxes of white fairy lights Hermione had laid out next to the tree. Hermione's head snapped up in surprise, and realized with a bit of shock that of course Draco had never done this sort of thing before.

"Sorry! I keep forgetting this is all new to you," she said as she hopped back up to help Draco open and unravel the lights. They took turns passing each strand from side to side around the tree as Ellie and Rosie played Easter Hunt with a handful of brightly colored ornaments.

An hour and a half and only three squashed ornaments later, "you shouldn't have hidden it under the couch pillow, you silly girl. They're not Easter eggs!" Draco stood back to take in his very first completely hand-decorated Muggle Christmas tree.

"It looks good," Hermione murmured as she leaned into his side and slid her arms around his waist. Draco looked down at his beautiful girlfriend, then over at the toddlers jumping up and down on their couch, and finally back to the tree.

"No, Little Girl. It looks perfect," he replied, and kissed the top of her head.

/…../

"Oh Lindy, they're perfect!" Hermione squealed and clapped her hands together in excitement.

"They are, aren't they? I'm just glad you want them both, it would have been hard to split them up now," Lindy replied happily.

"You must thank your Mum for me. These are exactly what I was looking for. Are you sure you don't mind holding on to them until Christmas Eve?" Hermione asked as she set the smaller one down so that she could lift and inspect the larger one.

"Not at all. Hey, do you want me to bring them at night once he's asleep? Make it a real surprise?" Lindy asked.

"Oh, that would be wonderful! We can hide them in my storage room until morning if we bring them up through the garage. Are you sure you don't mind? It might have to be eleven or later," Hermione mused.

"No, that's absolutely fine with me. Just make sure to take a picture of his face when he sees them! I'll meet you at your garage door at eleven thirty on Christmas Eve," Lindy replied, and laughed as Hermione jumped up and down and clapped her hands again.

/…../

Ginevra Weasley leaned across Mafalda Hopkirk's secondary office desk and gazed in shock at the framed Muggle photograph that sat discreetly next to a stack of folders. The laughing couple in the photo was bundled up for winter and had their arms wrapped tightly around each other. Their heads were slightly down, so Ginny couldn't see their faces with complete clarity, but she'd know those earrings anywhere. The tiny clusters of sapphires in the shape of five petaled flowers had been a gift to Hermione from her parents for her seventeenth birthday.

"Miss Weasley! What a surprise- Oh dear," Mafalda walked into her office to find a very distraught young woman holding a photo of two people that wanted their new lives kept away from their old Wizarding friends. Mafalda never would have left the photo sitting out in her main office, but down here in her private office, where she kept all of her correspondence from her young Muggle charges, she'd thought she'd be safe to leave it out. Hermione had just sent her the framed picture as a Christmas gift, and Mafalda was thrilled to see the two young people so completely happy together.

"It's her, isn't it?" Ginny asked as she held the photo out. "You know we've been looking for her for months, that we need to find her! And you know where she is?"

Mafalda sighed. "I'm sorry Miss Weasley, but it was Miss Granger's choice to keep her whereabouts private. I can't tell you-"

"You will tell me!" Ginny screeched. "Are you blind, woman? Look at me! I haven't got much time left! I need her! Now you tell me where she is!"

To Be Continued.


	21. Ch 21 Draco Malfoy's Family

**Author's Note: I own no person, no place, no thing – except the plot! If you recognize it, it probably belongs to Ms. Rowling or some other awesome super-human**.

**Chapter 21 Draco Malfoy's Family**

"Good God, your toes are freezing, Little Girl." Draco tried to shift away from Hermione's questing feet as much as he could without falling to the floor. It was Christmas Eve, and the two occupied opposite ends of the couch, engrossed in their own books and enjoying the ambiance of the twinkling lights from their nearby Christmas tree.

"All the more reason why they're trying to snuggle up to you, my dear." Hermione mused as she sipped her mug of lovely hot apple cider. She sat her mug back down on the coffee table and re-commenced rubbing Draco's stockinged feet that were perched on her belly with her free hand. In her other hand she held a battered copy of _Oh Jerusalem_, one of her beloved Holmes and Russell detective novels by the brilliant Ms. King. She discreetly checked the time on the wall clock as she flipped her page. Nearly ten thirty. Lindy would be arriving in an hour. Hermione needed Draco to be well asleep before that happened.

Hermione smirked behind the cover of her book. She knew of one way that, without fail, would knock Draco out for the night. Hermione quietly marked her book and set it on the table next to her mug, and then changed her modus operandi from 'rubbing the stress out of Draco's feet' to 'sensual foot massage for the purpose of getting Draco out of his pants'.

Piece of cake.

Draco quirked an eyebrow behind his paperback copy of Dickens's _A Christmas Carol_, which Hermione had said was a literary holiday classic, as he felt his lovely girlfriend give up on her book and devote both hands to massaging him. He sighed in appreciative happiness as she pulled off his socks and scraped her fingers along the tops of his feet. Draco continued to read as Scrooge was confronted by the Ghost of Christmas Present, and subsequently dragged around London to see the holiday celebrations of his employee and family member. He'd progressed through only one paragraph before he felt his groin twitching to life.

Draco lowered his book slightly, showing Hermione his bespectacled and bemused face. "What are you doing?" he asked quietly.

Hermione bit her lip and batted her eyelashes innocently. "Rubbing your feet? I thought you liked it, Draco."

"Oh, I do, Little Girl. I was just wondering if you're stimulating certain reflexology points on purpose or purely on accident."

"Maybe a bit of both, but now that you mention it…" Hermione applied pressure in the appropriate spot, and Draco shuddered.

"Behave yourself, Little Girl," he commanded as he raised his book back up to continue reading. He smirked behind the cover of the paperback. Nothing got Hermione riled up faster than being unnecessarily ordered about, he'd learned that in the Order. But in the privacy of their home, Draco had noticed that Hermione _loved it_ when he assumed an authoritative role with her. He mused that she might have some kinky schoolgirl/professor fantasies they could play around with one day.

Hmmm… role playing with Hermione. Hell yes.

Hermione rubbed that certain spot on his foot again, and Draco's sleep pants became significantly tighter. He considered writing to Mafalda to see if he could get his hands on a couple of Hogwarts uniforms…

Hermione bit his big toe. Draco hissed, but resolutely kept his book in front of his face. "That wasn't terribly nice of you, Hermione," he said in a low, gravelly voice. He turned the page on his book, not that he'd needed to since he could hardly remember what had happened in the last few paragraphs, but he didn't want Hermione to think she'd distracted him so thoroughly just yet. But she bit him again, at the same time as she pressed on _that spot, _and he tossed his book on the floor. He crooked his finger at her in a 'come hither' gesture, and Hermione abandoned his feet to crawl up his body.

Twenty minutes later Hermione stood at the kitchen sink to wash her hands and rinse her mouth, and then collected a towel to clean Draco up. He was lying on the couch still, but his glasses and shirt had fallen to the floor, and his flannel pajama bottoms were still pushed down his hips. He was already fast asleep. Hermione chuckled in amusement at his predictability, then straightened his sleep pants out and covered him up with a spare blanket. She'd bring him to bed later, after she took care of her special delivery.

/…../

Draco dreamed of Christmas at the Manor. The scent of pine and cookies and spice permeated every room and hall, and the candles burned just a little bit brighter in those few days before and after the holiday. As a very young child, he'd thought Christmas time to be the most magical time of the year, when his family home sparkled and glowed with gifts and friends, music and merry-making and festive décor. By the time he became a Hogwarts student, Christmas at home turned quickly to a time of nostalgia for those holidays of his early youth, as Lucius descended into the madness necessary to carry out his master's will and his Mother tried to stay out of Father's way. Oh, the smells and décor were still in place, but the friends and merry-making took a much darker turn.

It was only in later years that Draco realized that the late night carousing that went on after he'd been sent off to bed by his Mother were really precursors to the notorious Death Eater revels common during the Dark Lord's campaign of terror.

He'd been caught only once, and it had only taken one beating to gain his complete obedience to never come back down the stairs again once Mother had sent him to bed when his Father was entertaining during the holidays. He'd been thirteen, and curious of the many new faces at their supper table on Christmas Eve. When he'd snuck back down well after even his Mother would have retired to her private chambers, he'd stumbled right into his friend Theo's father, who'd been urinating into a potted poinsettia in the grand hall. Nott Senior had been less than delighted by Draco's righteous indignation that he immediately desist in his violation of the plants, and had cuffed him across the face before dragging him to Draco's Father's lounge. There, in front of a dozen or so of Lucius's friends, Draco had been whipped mercilessly for his disobedience and insolence. His Mother had found him Christmas morning, lying face down in his bed, his back covered in blood and gore, and being tended to by the house-elves as they tucked his torn flesh back together so they could heal his back properly.

He'd cried in her arms for the first time in many years. The humiliation and the pain had been too much for him to handle. Little did he know then how much worse it would get, and how many more times he'd be subjected to the kind of endurance training Lucius expected Draco to shoulder in order to become a tougher Death Eater. A _crucio _here,a _stupefy _there, and always, Lucius's signature whip-lash.

Once his extended family got their 'early release' from Azkaban Prison, Hogwarts became a sanctuary. Holidays were a terror to be endured or avoided at all costs. He'd first met his Aunt Bellatrix, scary demon-woman that she was, during Christmas of his Fifth Year. She'd sat across from him during their Christmas Eve supper, flashing her mossy, jagged teeth at him and spilling one hundred year-old wine all over the front of her dress. Later that evening she'd snuck into his room and propositioned him. His Aunt. She'd been less than enthused when he'd gagged and vomited at the sight and smell of her in his bed, and he'd spent the rest of his holiday trying desperately to elude her in the many rooms of the Manor.

It had been, by far, the worst Yule season ever. But he'd persevered, and his vile Aunt had given up on her quest to conquer _her own bloody nephew_ by the next time he'd had to spend a holiday with her.

But Draco couldn't abandon his Mother, and his Father would only wait so long before he expected Draco to come to heel. So Draco kept returning, and every time he did, things just got worse, and worse, and worse.

"Draco, dear. Come to bed."

Draco stiffened at the words, and felt a warm hand stroke his cheek. He cracked open one eye, expecting the worst.

_Hermione. _

Real life came flooding back to him in bright, vibrant color. Sea green eyes flashed with the twinkling of the lights in the tree, and pink lips whispered his name again.

"Draco, it's time for bed. Come on, or else Saint Nicholas won't come," Hermione said as she leaned in to kiss his forehead and push the blanket off of him. Draco groaned in abject relief that his nocturnal trip down memory lane was at an end and far removed from his new life. He sat up and snaked his arms around Hermione's waist to drag her onto his lap, and kissed her fiercely.

"God knows how much I love you, Hermione," he whispered against her mouth, then stood up with her in his arms and marched to their bedroom. Hermione leaned her head against the side of Draco's for the briefest moment, inhaling his scent and reveling in the scratchiness of his stubbled cheek and jaw.

"I love you too, Draco. Happy Christmas," she whispered back to him as he laid her down in their bed and clambered in next to her. She was surprised when, instead of pulling her against him to sleep, he laid his head on her chest and wrapped an arm around her waist. Innocent, child-like, and beautiful, Draco drifted right into peaceful dreams against his girlfriend's breast as she stroked her fingers through his cropped hair.

/…../

"Hermione, hey, Hermione!" Draco jostled his girlfriend out of a deep sleep.

"What, Draco?" she whined as she burrowed deeper into her pillow.

"Hermione, there's loud scratching and wailing coming from the storage room. I think we've got some big rats or something trapped in there," Draco said as he wiggled her shoulder.

"Wha? Rats? Where?" Hermione sat up.

Draco chuckled. "Possibly in your hair, Love. Honestly," he drawled as he snagged a hair tie from her bedside table and scraped her hair into a haphazard ponytail, "this kind of chaos is practically illegal."

Hermione batted his hands away from her and resolutely dove back into her pillows. "Let me sleep, Draco."

"Hermione, come on. Look, I was out in the kitchen making coffee and I heard some kind of crying and scratching coming from across the hall. It's got to be really big rats, or maybe some cats got in there," Draco said as he bounced up and down on the bed.

Draco's words finally connected in Hermione's brain, and she sat up with a gasp. "Oh my gosh! It's Christmas!" she exclaimed, then pushed the blankets off of her body so she could climb out of the bed. Then she turned around to see her boyfriend sitting on the side of the bed with an amused smile on his face. Hermione tackled him. "Happy Christmas, Draco!" she cried, then kissed him on his surprised mouth as they fell back into the blankets.

Draco pushed her straggling hair away from her face as she sat up on top of him, and said, "Happy Christmas, Little Girl. Now, what do you want first? Clean teeth, coffee, presents, or rats?"

Hermione giggled. "Let's multi-task. I'll brush my teeth and hair and meet you in the kitchen if you wouldn't mind fixing me a cup?" She scooted off his lap and wandered towards the bathroom, and paused as she heard him leave the room for the kitchen. Hermione's excitement overwhelmed her, and she did a wildly energetic, but very quiet, happy dance. Then she ran to the closet and grabbed trainers, a jumper and warm hat for each of them, and ducked into the bathroom to throw her items on and brush her teeth. She tucked her hair into her hat and traipsed out to the kitchen, where Draco leaned against the counter with his head cocked to the side, listening to the muffled, but obvious scratching and crying coming from the storage room.

"Why do I need these?" he asked as he exchanged her coffee mug for the shoes and hat.

Hermione shrugged as casually as possible, trying not to reveal her highly excited state. "Going rat hunting, aren't we? You're right, I definitely hear something over there." She sipped her coffee as Draco pushed his shoes onto his feet and accepted his jumper and hat. He pulled them on and snagged a set of keys as they drifted out the front door to open the door across the way.

"It's not rats," he said as he opened the door. "At least I hope not, ugh. I've never heard rats make noises like that."

"Been around a lot of rats, Lord Malfoy?" Hermione asked as she tugged him around a stack of plastic storage containers towards her Mother's piano.

"Houses and castles with dungeons tend to accumulate them, no matter how carefully one's house-elves try to ward against them. What is that noise though? It's like a baby crying." Draco said as they rounded the piano and his eyes fell on –

"Not a baby," Hermione said. "A puppy. Or rather, puppies." She knelt down behind the crate and reached forward to open the door that held back the adorable little creatures, and giggled happily as two white and squirming balls of fluff scrambled out of their blankets and tumbled out of the cage.

"Oh my God," Draco whispered, and dropped to his knees as the two sniffling, crying little things gamboled over to explore him. He picked one up, the larger of the two, and examined it closely. It had floppy white ears and big brown eyes, an adorable little brown nose, and a squirmy pink tongue that was trying desperately to – "Ugh! It licked my mouth!" he sputtered as he sat back on the floor. He tried to put the fur ball down, but was immediately set upon by both of the puppies, who scrambled onto his lap and eagerly tried to lick him as they wagged their little tails so hard they lost their balance.

Hermione laughed as Draco fell back onto the floor and surrendered to puppy adoration.

"Hermione! Blech, Oi, stop it you little mongrel! Hermione!" Draco laughed and covered his face with his hands to keep the puppies from licking the interior of his mouth and nose.

Hermione crawled over to him and snagged one of the puff balls off of Draco's chest, and snuggled her face into the top of its wiggling head. "Mmm, I love puppy-smell," she murmured. She watched Draco sit up and gather the second puppy into his arms to restrain it from trying to eat his face any further.

Draco looked at his girlfriend sitting next to him, holding a squirming white puppy, and smiled. "I take it these are not here on accident," he began.

Hermione shook her head.

"You got these," he continued.

She nodded.

"For me," Draco said.

Hermione nodded. "Happy Christmas, Draco. Do you like them?" she asked. She scratched the puppy she held behind its silky little ear, and it licked her hand enthusiastically as it whined.

Draco nodded his head. "I've never had a pet before," he said as the puppy he held licked his neck and tried to wiggle its way up his body. "They're rather silly little things, aren't they?" he mused.

Hermione nodded again. "Yes, very silly. And they will be for a long time. Puppies require a great deal of love and attention and discipline to make good dogs. They don't like to be left alone, and they thrive best with a great deal of guidance and companionship." She shrugged one shoulder. "They're rather like human children in that sense. These two are ten weeks old, and they were the last in their litter to be adopted. The one that you're holding was the biggest and strongest, but no one would take him because he refused to be separated from the little one I'm holding. She was the runt, and he protected her from the others. So, they're a team. Can't have one without the other," Hermione said, then stood and held the squirming puppy in one arm so that she could extend her free hand to Draco.

He allowed himself to be pulled up as he grasped the male puppy in his arm, then leaned down to kiss his girlfriend. The two puppies, overjoyed to be together again after fifteen seconds apart, wiggled and yipped and bit at each other in between their new parents.

"You know, I have no idea what I'm doing here, but, thank you, Hermione. This is… well... it's really unexpected, I'll say that," Draco said.

"But is it good?" Hermione asked hopefully.

Draco chuckled and nodded. "Yeh, it's good. It's bloody loony, you know. Two puppies is going to be-"

"Twice the fun of one?" Hermione grinned down at her little companion and rubbed their noses together. "You are the cutest little thing! Yes you are! Yes you are, you little sweetheart!" she cooed at the baby in her hands.

"Ugh, that was gross, Love. But, yeh, twice the fun of one. Although if you make those ridiculous noises again I'm going to ban you from helping to raise them. These are Malfoy dogs, and they will be treated with proper respect," Draco said as he poked Hermione in the ribs. His brilliant girl had already descended into baby-talk after two minutes with the puppies.

"No, darling, these are Granger-Malfoy puppies. You can try to fancy them up all you want, but I'm still going to baby them." Hermione said. Then her eyes suddenly opened wide. "Oh my gosh, speaking of babies, we need to get these little ones outside to go potty before they wet on us."

"Did you just say potty? Come on, Hermione. How in the world did you lose your dignity so quickly?" Draco asked as they wandered to the door to walk downstairs.

"Draco, they're babies, and babies go potty. And dignity has nothing to do with our life now. Deal with it," Hermione quipped.

/…../

Hermione jumped up and down in excitement, then she suddenly froze as her eyes widened.

"Wait!" she cried. "We have to plan! Oh my goodness, two weeks, let's see…"

Draco chuckled as she raced over to the bookshelves and started pulling down her collection of historical texts about ancient Rome, Roman architecture, the history of the Catholic church and the Vatican, maps of the Venice, a collection of archaeological texts about Pompei and Mount Vesuvius…

"Does this mean you like your gift, Hermione?" Draco drawled from his post on the floor, where two small sleeping bundles of white fur were crowded and tangled in his lap.

"YES! Oh, I'm so excited! When should we go? I think Spring would be a good time, with the warmer weather and the flowers blooming and the outdoor tours and hiking to the remote sites…" Hermione threw herself down on the floor next to her boyfriend and handed him a stack of books, then reached over to the couch to grab a few cushions so that she could comfortably explore…

Draco set the books down. "Hermione. We don't need to plan this out today. Just relax, Love. Besides, my legs are falling asleep. Help me out?"

Hermione huffed and narrowed her eyes in defiance, but then she looked over at the babies asleep in her boyfriend's lap, and a wave of love washed over her. She sat up and turned to rest her head against Draco's shoulder as she reached out to stroke soft fur.

"You know, we're like their parents now. They're going to look to us for everything. Even their names," Hermione murmured as she curled her finger around a tiny ear.

Draco chuffed. "Brilliant. My first children are white, hairy, and illegitimate."

"Oh, and they're mutts too, don't forget that," Hermione teased.

"What the hell are mutts?" Draco asked sharply.

Hermione bit her lip. "Ah, it means they're not pureblooded of a particular breed. I actually got them for free because of that. Their mum's a registered vanilla Labrador, but she went and got knocked up by the neighbor's bulldog, and of course no one wanted to pay money for her un-pedigreed babies. Lindy's mum lives down the road from the puppy's original home, that's how I found out about them."

Draco cut his eyes over at his girlfriend, who looked nervous. "But they're definitely one hundred percent dog, right?"

"What? Of course they are. What do you mean?"

"I don't know. You said mutt and I thought you meant they were some kind of half-breed, like, part polar bear or something. You know, like Crookshanks was half-kneazle."

Hermione laughed. "No, Draco, they're one hundred percent dog. No magical creature, no mutant half-breed either. Part polar bear, honestly…"

Draco pointed down at his lap. "White and hairy. Polar bear was a viable genetic option."

Hermione poked Draco in the ribs, then stood and marched back to the bookshelves.

"What are you getting now? I don't want to look at books about Italian history right now, Hermione."

"No, as excited as I am about the wonders of Italy, we'll worry about that later on. We have something much more important to do right now," Hermione said as she scrambled up to a high shelf to pull down a large picture book of…

"Stars, planets and constellations!" she cried. "Perfect baby name book, don't you think?"

Draco nodded. "If they want to be in my family, that will do perfectly. Thank you, Little Girl."

Hermione knelt down and deposited the constellation book next to her stack of Italy texts, then picked up one of the sleeping puppies so that Draco could rise from the hardwood floor. "Your very welcome, Draco. I'm so glad you like them."

"Oh, I'm sure by the end of the afternoon I'll love them. It's rather inevitable, isn't it?" Draco asked as he accepted the female puppy from Hermione, then walked to the bedroom to deposit the slumbering babies on the bed. He stood there and watched the male curl around the female and sleepily chew on her ear, while the female's little pink tongue lolled out to hang out of the side of her little mouth.

Hermione curled herself around Draco's body as he watched the sleeping puppies. Suddenly, Draco said, "They're too young to leave here by themselves, so we'll have to take them to the Fraser's tonight, won't we? That means we can introduce them to the four-legged wizard! Brilliant!"

The sound of their combined laughter finally woke the puppies from their nap, so Draco and Hermione bundled up and took them outside for a potty break just as the snow started to fall on Christmas day in Little Whinging.

"Stop saying potty, Hermione!"

"Shut it, Draco!"

To Be Continued.


	22. Chapter 22 Puppy Love

**Author's Note: I own no person, no place, no thing – except the plot! If you recognize it, it probably belongs to Ms. Rowling or some other awesome super-human**.

**Chapter 22 Puppy Love**

Draco Malfoy was standing on a ladder when his mobile pinged in his pocket. He'd just been re-shelving a handful of King books from the series that Hermione loved in the "K" section in fiction. The patron who had just returned them, a funny and friendly little woman named Bella that always made him sneeze when she came by at least once a month with fresh-baked cookies and a bag full of books to exchange, mentioned that a new edition in the series would be coming early in the new year. He'd have to swing by the local book shop on the way home from the Library and put one on pre-order so that he could bring it home for Hermione the day it came out -

Draco sighed and put his hand over his eyes. When did he become such a sap for a woman? But it was the damned truth. He'd walk across town barefooted in the snow to pick a crocus if Hermione so much as wished for one. But the thing was, she'd do the same damned thing for him – not that he would ever wish for a flower, of course. But the intensity of their devotion to each other's needs and wants just bound them more tightly and permanently to each other.

Sometimes Draco wondered if he and Hermione were living in a fantasy world of their own creation, and worried that the bubble would burst one day and they'd go back to hating each other as they'd done as children. But then his mind rolled through images of her wild-haired and sweaty as they made love, or relaxed and sleepy as they drank tea and talked on the couch, or lost in her singular focus as she devoured a new book or a new musical piece…

Draco shuffled down the ladder and pulled his mobile out of his pocket.

_To: bibliophile1_

_From: bibliophile2_

_Subject: Popular!_

_Good morning darling,_

_I found it highly amusing that Sue called me a few minutes ago to beg that she be allowed to bring the fairy girls over to see the puppies. Apparently they barely slept last night after their introduction to Uncle Draco's baby dogs – their words, not mine - and woke this morning demanding to see them again. So, whilst you're slaving away at the Library on Boxing Day, yours truly is enjoying a morning of puppies and princesses and coffee in your living room. Jealous? If you weren't already, I should inform you that even your boyfriend Radagast is coming over. There art thou jealous?_

_Thought so!_

_Your, LG_

Draco narrowed his eyes. Damn that woman. He was bloody jealous. The puppies were so unbelievably funny and dopey and helpless that he'd fallen head over heels in love before Christmas Day had ended. Having never spent any time in his life around domestic pets until he'd met Radagast, he was curious about the bonds between owner and familiar, but the love he felt for the puppies was more parental than he'd been expecting. Coming into this windfall of unconditional love so unexpectedly had knocked him a little sideways, but Draco suspected that was why Hermione had gotten him the puppies. He'd spent his whole life thinking of love as a thing one had to strive and seek to earn or coerce from others. Three months with Hermione and he was awash in a sea of love that he hadn't done anything to earn.

No, this wasn't some fantasy world they'd created. It was overwhelmingly, breath-takingly real. He and Hermione were utterly compatible in every way. And despite what he'd said to Michael and the others a few weeks ago, Draco didn't think he'd be able to wait much longer before he threw himself at Hermione's feet and begged her to marry him.

Draco growled in frustration at his own pitiful mental meanderings. Malfoy's did not beg. No, to secure the hand of Miss Granger, he would put some actual thought, effort, and creativity into his proposal, but he certainly wouldn't beg. He feared that his biggest obstacle would be Hermione's infinitely sensible brain. When it came down to it, Draco wasn't sure Hermione would be interested in actually marrying him, since it came with the unbelievably large burden of his infamous surname. Thus, Hermione's brain would need to be so over-stimulated that it would allow her heart to respond when he did ask her.

Piece of cake.

/…../

"Oh look, the dog star! We could name him Sirius! It would be a good homage, don't you think? Or what about Regulus or Arcturus?" Hermione nudged one of the still sleeping puppies that was passed out next to her in the bed so that she could make room for the book of constellations that she was perusing for names. It had been a few days since Christmas, and they hadn't been able to come up with any reasonable compromises for the puppies' names. Draco walked into the room from the kitchen, holding two mugs of hot tea. He handed one to her as he replied to her shouted commentary.

"No, we can't use Regulus, Arcturus or Sirius. No names that have already been used by my human family members, especially ones that we've actually met, Love."

"Well, how about Denebola for the girl?" Hermione asked as she dragged her fingers along the Leo constellation.

"You want to name her after the arse end of a lion? Come on my little Gryffindor, please give up the lion names."

Okay… Etamin and Grumium…"

"Absolutely not. No discussion."

"But Draco…"

"No way. Get out of my constellation and stay out."

Hermione's eyes flicked to the left of the Draco constellation to the delicate form of Lyra. A secret hope flared inside her, and she immediately tucked it deep inside her heart. She'd save the name Lyra for later. Just in case…

"These names are all just too much for dogs, Draco. I mean, honestly, we can't name her Vulpecula and him Hercules. Are you sure we can't just come up with regular names?" Hermione asked as she hopefully pushed a book of baby names that she'd borrowed from Winnie towards her boyfriend.

Draco shoved the baby name book to the side and flipped a page in the star chart book he'd been perusing before he'd gotten up to make tea.

"Look at Gemini, Love. How about Pollux and Castor?" he asked as he tapped the page to show Hermione.

"But those are both boy names. Look at Canis Minor. How about Gomeisa and Procyon?" she asked.

Draco wrinkled his nose. "Kind of a mouthful, but I suppose it is clever enough that we should leave them on the list of possibilities. You know, I'm not against planets. How about Jupiter and Venus? They were brother and sister."

"Hmm, what about the Greek aspect? Zeus and Aphrodite?"

Draco shook his head. "No, not those. They sound outrageously pretentious."

Hermione choked on her tea. Draco's eyebrow lifted in query, but she shook her head. When she'd finally gotten her breathing under control, she asked, "Since when is a Malfoy opposed to pretention?"

Draco rolled his eyes as he tucked his feet back under the comforter. It was bloody freezing this morning, and he had no intention of leaving the bed again until the sun was well up in the sky.

"Pretentiousness is for the nouveau riche, Little Girl. We can hardly be called that."

"Au contraire, Lord Malfoy. My net worth a year ago was approximately thirty-five thousand Pounds. Now that my net worth has increased by one thousand times, wouldn't that qualify me as such?"

"I could hardly qualify you as a vicious social climber when we live completely outside of society. Besides," Draco gestured towards the dogs, and then their room in general, "Granger-Malfoy dogs, Granger-Malfoy household. It all falls under the distinguished protection of my surname now, my dear, including yourself." He watched her carefully out of the corner of his eye as he said those last words, and his heart squeezed in nearly painful happiness when he saw Hermione flush bright pink as she bit her lip to keep a huge smile from overtaking her face. If he had a ring, he'd have turned to her right then and asked. But Draco didn't have a ring yet, so he let the moment pass.

Hermione collected her scattered mind, and carefully sat her tea mug on her bedside table. She shifted her legs under the blankets as she said, "Well, as long as Granger comes in first, and Malfoy is second, it sounds perfectly natural to me. Don't you agree?" She grinned wickedly at Draco as the puppies between them shifted and rolled onto their backs. The male snuffled against the female and sought out her ear to chew on, and the female rolled over and started gnawing on the male's foot.

Draco leaned in and kissed the top of Hermione's head, and said, "Cute, Granger, really. Hey, you want to see something else that's cute?" He shifted his foot under the blanket and nudged the female puppy, who immediately whipped her little head around and looked for her attacker. The moving bump under the blanket suddenly nudged her again, and just over one half-stone of tiny white hunter suddenly pounced. She bit and yipped at the moving bump under the blanket as her tail wagged furiously.

Suddenly the bump disappeared. She snuffled around, searching.

Draco chuckled and shifted so that his right hand slid under the blanket to make another bump for the puppy to attack. She saw the movement, and sprang straight up in the air to try to land on the bump. Draco and the female puppy tussled around with their little blanket game for a few minutes as Hermione pulled the lazy male into her lap for a cuddle and a belly tickle. She absently flipped through the pages of constellations until she came to a representation of the solar system. The sun sat in the center, bisected by its position in the center of the book, surrounded by its Roman-named planets and a variety of the larger star and constellation configurations.

Mercury, Venus, Mars. They just didn't seem like dog names! Cassiopeia, Orion, Pisces… No, no, no. Pluto? Ugh, no, Disney already ruined that one for the rest of the dog world.

"Oh, my little huntress, where did it go?" Draco teased the female as she prowled the bed.

Hermione froze. Huntress? Jupiter, Zeus… Her eyes landed on the Sun in the center of the open pages of her book. The Sun… and the Huntress.

"Artemis," she gasped in surprise. Draco lifted his head and looked at his girlfriend. Hermione was grinning from ear to ear.

"What did you say?" he asked.

Hermione pointed at Draco's bed buddy. "Artemis, Goddess of the Hunt. And her twin brother, Apollo, God of healing and music, Lord of the Sun. What do you think?"

But Hermione already knew what Draco would think, as the smug look on her face told him. Draco picked up the wiggling female and inspected her happy little doggy face. "Well," he began. The female wagged her tail and tried to lick his face. "Yuck! Hold still Artemis! Oh, you like that, do you?" Draco plopped the puppy into his lap and tickled her belly, and tried the name again. "So, Artemis is the name your adoptive, two-legged, Pseudo-Mother over there wants to saddle you with, little one. What do you think, Artemis? Is that your name? Artemis Malfoy?"

"Artemis Granger-Malfoy," came the voice of Artemis's adoptive, two-legged Pseudo-Mother.

Draco yelped as the newly named female suddenly bent like a pretzel and attacked his hand, clamping down it with her needle-sharp puppy teeth. "Ah, the mighty Huntress has finally caught her prey. Good show, Artemis Granger-Malfoy. All right now, let go of my hand. That bloody hurts."

Hermione giggled and shut the book so that she could shift the still sleeping male into a patch of sunlight that had finally made it through the morning clouds to land on the foot of their bed. "We might consider naming him Hypnos, but I do like the name Apollo. Apollo Granger-Malfoy, here's a bit of sunlight for you."

/…../

Draco and Renny spent the late afternoon of the day before New Year's Eve at the local Driver's licensing office so that Draco could get certified to legally drive a motorbike. Mission accomplished, they planned to meet up at the Library as soon as it closed in the afternoon on New Year's Eve. Renny's trailer would once again come in handy to Draco when they rode to the nearest Yamaha dealer to pick up the lovely and outrageously sexy black motorbike that he'd ordered a few weeks before. Draco wanted to drive the bike directly, but the weather had been too awful lately to even consider it. Just driving to work and back in Hermione's car was hair-raising with the ice slicking the streets. Renny was a far more experienced driver, and his old Rover was far more well-suited for towing than Hermione's Lexus anyway.

It was nearly closing time at the Library on New Year's Eve when Draco heard his name being called. He walked out of the break room, where he'd been making himself a cup of coffee, at the sound of Wanda's voice, expecting to see her with Renny. But instead he saw that she was talking to Bella, the strange little woman who always made him sneeze.

"Hello Bella- aaah!" Draco pinched his nose and squeezed his eyes shut as he clamped his teeth down on the sneeze that threatened. Once the feeling passed, he opened his watering eyes and smiled at the women before him.

"Oh, good afternoon Draco! When you told me the other day about your new little puppies I just knew I had to do something nice for the little darlings, to welcome them to your family, you see. So I just popped in to drop off some homemade puppy-biscuits. I make something similar for my kitties, you know, and they just love it."

The woman held out a little tin, and Draco popped it open cautiously and saw several dozen small discs of russet brown dog snacks.

Well. That was… odd. And thoughtful.

Draco's eyes watered, and he clapped his hand over his nose and mouth as he sneezed.

Then he sneezed again, and again. He accepted the handful of tissues from Wanda as he backed away from the women and tried to get his sneezing under control.

Wanda watched her assistant with concern when something suddenly dawned on her. "Oh dear, Draco, that sounds like an allergy attack. Aren't you allergic to cats?"

Bella's eyes widened in dismay as Draco nodded his head. "Oh, Draco I'm sorry I wasn't aware of that! I knew I should have picked a different coat to wear, as my Helga and Rowena had spent the morning lying on this one, but with the weather just so terrible outside… Oh bother. I'm so sorry!" She made to turn and go, but Draco held out his hands, wordlessly asking her to wait.

Wanda opened the small medical kit she kept under her information desk and handed Draco two allergy pills, which he gratefully popped and washed down with his coffee.

"Don't run off on account of my ridiculous cat allergy, at least not before I can thank you. And after all, Wanda and I have learned through painful experience to keep allergy medicine on hand." Draco smirked at his boss, who laughed at his joke.

"Yes indeed we have! You see Bella, I'm quite allergic to dogs, and Draco here has been making me sneeze like the dickens for the past few days. So we're quite prepared now." Wanda said happily as she patted the distraught woman's hand.

"Oh, I'm so glad! I mean, not that you're allergic to dogs, but that you have medicine for Draco – I mean – I'd hate to be the cause of making someone else sick!" Bella stammered in relief.

Draco took a large drink of his coffee, swallowed, blinked a few times, and felt his inflamed immune system quiet down. He nodded at Bella, who was really a very kind and gentle little thing. She was obviously alone, with no wedding band or mention of a husband at home. Draco estimated the woman to be roughly his Mother's age, or possibly a few years older. He wondered absently if she had any children that she missed, as that may explain the deliveries of baked goods that she regularly left with Draco and Wanda.

"Oh Draco, you must tell Bella the names you came up with for the puppies!" Wanda said.

He nodded and smiled. "Hermione came up with them, of course, but they're perfect. We've named them Artemis and Apollo."

"Oh that is darling! Artemis and Apollo, what perfect little names. And how is your Hermione? Are you two going out tonight for the New Year?" Bella asked kindly.

Draco nodded at her just as he saw Renny walk through the front doors. He lifted his chin in greeting to his friend as he responded to Bella's questioning. "Yes, Hermione is well. She's spent the past few days house-breaking the puppies and puppy-proofing the flat. I can't believe the amount of things a puppy is willing to chew on. Artemis ruined one of Hermione's new running shoes the other night, and Apollo, unfortunately, keeps trying to chew the corners off of our bookcases. But, my friend Renny here has graciously offered to pet-sit this evening. We're going out dancing somewhere in London tonight with a few of our friends. Hello, Ren." Draco shook the hand of his friend, who greeted him in return.

"Oi, Draco, ready to go pick up that bike?" Renny asked, then turned to greet the two ladies that Draco had been conversing with. "Hello Ms. Wanda, and he-" Renny stuttered, and choked, then cleared his throat as he held his hand out to the small woman standing next to his young friend.

Draco and Wanda watched with wide, incredulous, and amused eyes as Renny's cheeks flushed a dull red as he shook the hand of a pink and blushing Bella.

"Hullo, Madam. Mordecai Renton, at your service," Renny said politely.

Wanda elbowed Draco, and, realizing what was necessary, Draco hurriedly piped up. "Bella, this is Renny, a good friend of mine. He and Hermione play in the same band with our church. Renny, this is a patron of our Library, Ms. Bella – Oh, Bella, I'm sorry. I don't actually know your last name!" Draco said awkwardly.

"Oh, that's all right Draco," Bella whispered. Wanda elbowed Draco again, and he elbowed her in return as they watched Bella gaze dreamily up at Renny as she continued to shake his hand. "Hullo, Mordecai Renton, I'm pleased to meet you. I'm Arabella Figg."

/…../

Hermione, Sue and Lindy had devoted an entire morning several days before Christmas to shopping for the perfect dancing dresses for their big New Year's Eve out in London with their men. Hermione was delighted by the emerald green, beaded 1920's era flapper dress that she'd found at the shop on the high street in town, and had spent a large part of the afternoon on New Year's Eve sculpting perfect waves into the length of her hair to compliment her vintage look. By the time Draco made it home from the Library and bike retrieval expedition, she'd gotten herself party-ready, gotten the flat cleaned up after a day of puppy-play, and packed a bag of the puppies' accoutrements for an overnight stay at Renny's.

Hermione was dancing in the living room to a loud and lively Pete Yorn song as the puppies yipped and wagged their tails while they bounced around her feet when Draco walked in the front door. She waved merrily at him, and was surprised when he grinned widely and swooped over to pull her into his arms, then swung her in a circle around the room. Hermione laughed as he spun her in his arms, and gladly followed his lead as Draco danced with her.

"What's got you so happy, Mr. Malfoy? New motorbike?" Hermione asked as he twirled her around to the beat of the song. She was further surprised when he shook his head in the negative.

"Nope. I did something today that I've never done before. Sue would be so proud of me. You look smashing, by the way," Draco said with a grin.

"Why thank you, Mr. Malfoy. I thought you might appreciate the color. So what is it that you did today that would have Sue so proud of you?"

"I do indeed like the color of your dress, Ms. Granger, and I eagerly look forward to the opportunity to remove it with my teeth later this evening. In answer to your question, this afternoon I played matchmaker for Renny. That's actually why we didn't go pick up the bike, I made an excuse about the bad weather so he'd have more time to visit."

"No! Oh my goodness, that's so funny! Who did you introduce him to?" Hermione asked in surprise as Draco dipped her backwards, then pulled her back up into his arms.

"That funny little woman that brings us cookies at the Library. Ms. Arabella Figg."

Hermione's feet stumbled as she mentally stuttered over the familiar name. She gaped in shock at Draco. "What did you say?" she asked.

"What? You mean the bit about the odd woman that brings cookies? She's a perfectly nice little thing, a bit funny, but harmless. You should have seen Renny though, he barely even noticed Wanda and I when we left him outside the Library. I think he was trying to ask Bella to the coffee shop next door, but I couldn't be sure over all of the blushing and stuttering," Draco mused happily as he pulled Hermione back into the rhythm of the song.

"That's all well and good Draco, but what did you say her name was?" Hermione asked.

"Oh, Bella. Arabella Figg," he replied, then watched in confusion as Hermione's face scrunched up and then broke apart as she burst into loud laughter.

"Oh my Gosh, Draco! Do you know who Arabella Figg is?!" Hermione crowed.

Draco shook his head. "No, but I presume by your reaction that you do."

"She's… oh my gosh this is so crazy! She's a squib, Draco! She's Harry's old neighbor, and she's a member of the Order! You just set Renny up with a tattoo-bearing, twenty-five year veteran member of the Order of the Phoenix!"

To Be Continued.

**Author's Note: Draco and Hermione are dancing to the tune of Pete Yorn's ****_Life on a Chain_**** from the 2001 album: Musicforthemorningafter. Great Dramione song within this tale, and definitely a huge part of my playlist as I write for you all. **

**P.S. How are we doing? My reviews have been tapering off, so I'm not sure. Are you all just content to read along blissfully, and have nothing to say either way, or is it just blah, or…? I know that some of you have had worries about all the 'happy-ever-after' B.S. that Draco and Hermione have been rolling around in, but I assure you, that was just the honeymoon phase. I needed to get their relationship well and solidified before I started throwing curve-balls at them – because in the end, this isn't going to be an angsty story – it's a happy story where our two heroes work together against the odds that will inevitably start to stack up against them. Again, I wanted this story to reflect the two living as regular people, not like over-egotized super-neurotic CHARACTERS. Does that make any sense? **

**In my mind, it does! So thus, I continue to write. But seriously, do tell me how I'm doing. I find it disconcerting to see that thousands of people are reading it, but no one is saying anything. **

**Acro**


	23. Chapter 23 Superhero

**Author's Note: I own no person, no place, no thing – except the plot! If you recognize it, it probably belongs to Ms. Rowling or some other awesome super-human**.

**Chapter 23 Superhero**

Fred Weasley re-cast his Warming charm as he stood in the shadow of the building that faced the brick structure that supposedly housed the Muggle version of his younger siblings' long-missing friend. He and George had volunteered to help Ginny when Ron became angrier and more unstable at the mention of Hermione's defection from the Wizarding Community. Fortunately Ron was now so caught up in Auror training that he was away from the Burrow for days and weeks at a time. Unfortunately for Hermione though, it was Ron who'd used his Auror training to track her magical signature to Mafalda Hopkirk's private office. When Ginny came home from her visit to Mafalda with news of the Muggle photo of Hermione and an unknown Muggle man, Ron had flown into a jealous rage.

"You mean to tell me that fucking bitch left me for a Muggle? She lied to all of us, put us through Hell, for a Muggle?" he'd screamed at his sister and anyone who would listen.

Fred rolled his eyes. He didn't blame Hermione at all if she'd run off with a Muggle, with what a crap-tastic arsehole Ron had turned out to be as a boyfriend to the poor girl. Mafalda seemed to agree with the consensus that Ron be kept out of the loop as to Hermione's whereabouts, and had only left Ginny the vaguest of clues and a promise to get in touch with Hermione directly after the new year to ask permission to send Ginny her contact information.

It was Fred, who'd been visiting his Father and Percy in the Ministry for lunch just the day before, who'd pieced together Hermione's true location. He had been sitting in his Dad's office reading an old Muggle newspaper – his Dad did love to read the Muggle news, when he'd seen a third page article about an anonymous young woman who'd beaten off her attacker in a park in Surrey, and that attacker had turned out to be a man wanted in several unsolved rape cases on a nearby Muggle university campus. There had been a small photograph of a street with Muggle cars and uniformed officers – and a fairly clear shot of one Hermione Granger, standing to the side and trying to look inconspicuous.

What had surprised Fred further though, was the form of Draco Malfoy standing next to her, holding her hand. He hadn't mentioned it to Ginny for fear of even voicing the news out loud, but the photo in the Muggle paper led Fred to believe that the framed Muggle photograph Ginny had seen in Mafalda's office was of Hermione wrapped up in the arms of his younger brother's greatest rival.

And now, on New Year's Eve, he received confirmation of this suspicion as the Muggle versions of Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy stepped out of the doorway he'd been watching. They were bundled up against the weather, but dressed to go out to a party, and each held a squirming white puppy. Fred watched in surprise as Malfoy opened the door of a Gryffindor-red car so that Hermione could slide in. Then Malfoy leaned down to hand her his puppy, and closed her door. As Malfoy ran around the car to the opposite side, a gust of wind blew up the alley that Fred was standing in, which blew his cloak about wildy. Malfoy must have noticed the movement, because his head whipped over to the very space that Fred was standing in. Fred quickly mumbled a Disillusionment charm and pulled himself further into the shadows.

Had Malfoy seen him? Fred didn't know for sure. But Malfoy gave the area a quick sweep with his eyes again, then popped his door open and climbed into the car.

Fred waited until the car was out of sight before he Disapparated to the flat he shared with his twin, and more recently, his younger sister. Ginny had taken to spending time above the shop at 93 Diagon Alley as a sanctuary against their Mother, who could not understand what "leave me alone to wallow in my grief!" meant, and against Ron, who was rapidly becoming the new poster boy for why one shouldn't give angry, unstable people positions of authority or advanced magical training.

Ginny had her feet propped on the coffee table and a blanket wrapped around her body to ward off the winter chill. Fred waved his wand to re-heat the room and set the logs ablaze in the fireplace, then sat down next to his younger sister and pecked her on the cheek.

"Did you find her?" Ginny asked as she leaned into the warmth of her elder brother.

"I did, and she is indeed in Little Whinging. She looks happy, Gin. Hell, she looks like any other Muggle, really. Are you sure we can't just leave her alone? It was her decision after all, to leave…"

"No! This involves her too! And Harry would never forgive me if I didn't include her. She'll be able to help so much, Fred!"

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, Gin. Hermione is not the go-to answer for everything. You think we Weasley's can't figure this out on our own?" Fred asked, offended.

"Of course not! We need her! She's going to be the key to our success or failure, and you know it," Ginny said as she smoothed out the wrinkles in the blanket that covered her from neck to knee.

"Yeh, I know, Gin. But you're going to have to be a little patient. We can't go to her until Ron leaves on his next training mission. I can't take the risk of him even being in the country to follow us, because if he were to see what I saw tonight, he'd kill her for sure," Fred said sadly.

Ginny breathed in a sharp gasp. "Fred! What in Godric's name did you see that would make you say that?"

Fred sighed, and then straightened as he heard his twin tromp up the stairs. George Weasley opened the front door and held out the bags of Chinese take-away that Ginny had begged for an hour ago.

"All right, Ginevra Khan, I have brought the Mongolian Beef, the Mongolian Chicken, and the sizzling rice soup. Now please remove your angry hoardes of plastic rainbow-colored ponies from my bedroom so I can get ready! I'm supposed to be meeting Angelina in half an hour! Oi, Freddie, aren't you going tonight? Why aren't you dressed yet?"

"He found Hermione!" Ginny offered as she eagerly opened her hands for the boxes of take-away.

George's mouth dropped open in shock, then he narrowed his eyes as he took in Fred's drawn expression. "Why aren't you two rejoicing then? For that matter, why are we all still here? I thought finding her was a matter of some urgency?"

Fred shook his head. "There's a complication. We have no choice but to wait until the next time Ron's out of the country before we can go to her. We can't risk him finding her. Someone will end up in Azkaban or worse if Ron finds Hermione."

"That's a rather dramatic take on the situation isn't it, brother of mine? What could be so bad about a Muggle Hermione that would incite Ickle Ronnie to such an extreme level of violence that law breaking would occur?"

Fred blew out a breath and looked at his twin. "Hermione's live-in boyfriend, Draco Malfoy, should suffice, don't you think?"

Ginny's loud gasp was followed immediately by violent choking as her throat and esophagus fought against the large mouthful of beef she'd been chewing. Fred hurriedly waved his wand and _accio'd_ the beef into his hand – a thoroughly disgusting, albeit life-saving trick they'd learned early in life from their Mother – as George Summoned a glass of water from the kitchen.

"Are you all right, Gin? Sorry, I should have waited until your mouth was clear," Fred apologized as Ginny gulped down the water. Finally she sat the glass down on the table and waved her hands in front of her watering eyes.

"Shite," she said. "That was unexpected."

"Bloody Hell, Freddie. Are you sure?" George asked. Fred nodded his head.

"If Ron were to find out-" Ginny began, but Fred cut her off.

"He can't find out, and you both know it. They're both Muggles now, but I don't think that would stop Ron from attacking them. It would be a bloodbath," Fred said sternly, and George nodded his agreement.

"Right, so from here on out, we don't speak of it outside of this room, but the plan will be to visit Hermione as soon as Ron is confirmed to be out of the country. I think he's planning on leaving again with his group shortly after the new year. Maybe a week from today at the latest?" George said.

Fred nodded. "That should give us time to prepare as well. I want to make sure we have back-up stories in place to distract Mum as well as anyone else who may want to follow us-"

George snorted. "The fucking media, the fucking Ministry, the fucking fans OR the fucking rogue Death Eaters. I swear to Godric, the best thing our family could do is just pack up and leave England entirely."

Fred looked up in surprise at his twin's declaration. This had been his secret hope since the incident with the collapsing wall at the final battle last Spring, and George knew it well.

"You might be right, Georgie. After all," Fred reached over and patted his sister's blanket and beef covered mid-section, "it's not just about us anymore, is it?'

Ginny elbowed him in the ribs. "Get away from my food, Freddie," she growled. "And stop touching my belly, you'll wake him up."

/…../

Draco released his hold on Hermione's legs and allowed them to rest on the floor again, but refrained from letting her go from her position against the bathroom wall. Both of their chests were heaving from the exertion of what they'd just done, and Hermione in particular had gone very red in the face. She ducked her flushing cheeks against his chest as the giggles overwhelmed her.

"I can't believe… we just did… _that_ … in _here _!" she choked out between her giggles.

"In my defense, I can't believe you're not wearing anything under that dress, Girl. Surely you were expecting this kind of reaction when I found out," Draco panted as he ran his hands down her mussed hair.

"Well sure I was, but just not until later. You know, once we were in the privacy of our home?" Hermione asked as she pushed against her boyfriend so that she could fix her dancing dress back into place.

"Why put off until later what we can do right now? Besides, this is a remarkably clean loo. Actually it's one of the nicest Muggle toilets I've ever seen. We should leave the owners a thank you note," Draco smirked down at his girlfriend, whose blush deepened.

"Well I hope you enjoyed your last shag of the year, Mr. Malfoy, because, unless mine ears deceive me, they're all doing the countdown right now," Hermione sniffed.

"Oh, bollocks. Well hurry up and let's go out and join the group," Draco said as he re-zipped his trousers and straightened his shirt and tie. He picked his jacket up from the hook on the door and slipped it back onto his shoulders.

Hermione paused. "Draco, I can't. I have to…" She waved at the toilet and sink. Draco raised an eyebrow. "Oh come off it, Malfoy! I have to get cleaned up. You might be able to just tuck and go, but I am not about to go walking around that party with your… stuff… running down my legs!"

Draco snorted his amusement, and made to leave the room, but Hermione grabbed his arm. "Don't leave! Who in the world are you planning on snogging at midnight if not me?"

Draco looked in askance at his girlfriend. "Hermione, I don't think we've quite progressed to that point in our relationship yet where I'd be comfortable snogging you whilst you're sitting on the toilet. No offense."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Draco, honestly. Are you deaf?" Then she tugged on his tie and pulled him into her kiss just as the masses of partiers outside shouted, "HAPPY NEW YEAR!"

Draco sighed and pulled Hermione closer into his arms as he deepened their kiss. He'd been feeling rather melancholy about the New Year. The past year had been one of the most traumatic ones of his life. Everything he'd ever known had changed and been flipped on its head, and he was well and truly happy for it, but with a new year came three hundred sixty-five days of potential unknowns. He couldn't deny that he was massively worried about his and Hermione's future. Where would they be at this point next year? Would they still be safe and snug in the Fortress in Little Whinging? Would he be able to convince Hermione to drop the ridiculous Granger-Malfoy title she'd plastered all over their lives and property to just be a Malfoy with him? He sighed again as Hermione broke away from him.

"Don't leave, Draco. Just turn around for a minute and I'll get cleaned up, then we can re-join the party," Hermione said as she spun him around by his shoulders. He nodded absently as he turned away from the sight of his girlfriend, and sighed again.

"What's got you so glum, Mr. Malfoy?" Hermione asked as she hiked up her dress to quickly and efficiently clean up the evidence of her and Draco's romp in the restroom.

"Nothing," he said as he stared at the wood grain of the door.

Hermione snorted. "Whatever. You've sighed three times since I kissed you. What, are you worried I've broken some cardinal rule of our relationship by peeing with you in the room? Because I assure you, this won't be happening regularly. I just didn't want to kick you out, only to have to search through five hundred strangers to find you again once I'm done."

Draco chuckled. "No, it's not that. I'm just being melancholy. Or nostalgic, maybe. I'm nervous about what lies ahead for us, you know? A lot has changed for you and I in the last year. And it's been so damned peaceful and easy, these past few months, just existing and living with you. I don't want that to end, and I can't help but feel apprehensive of what could possibly be coming for us." His mind drifted to that fleeting image of a humanoid shape with the snap of fabric whipping around its legs. Had his imagination come up with the shock of ginger hair? Was he being paranoid?

Hermione flushed, re-situated her dress, and went to the sink to wash her hands and smooth down her mussed hair.

"Oh, Draco. I can't say I'm not worried too, but you seem to have forgotten something," she began as she dried her hands, then drifted over to join him at the door. She popped the lock and pulled him out to the dance floor, only dropping his hand to snag two champagne glasses as they were passed around by a waiter.

"Happy New Year, darling," she said as she passed him a glass and snuggled up against his side.

Draco wrapped one arm around Hermione's waist and clinked their glasses together. "Happy New Year, Love. Now tell me, what am I forgetting?" he asked as he brought his flute to his mouth.

"Obviously you've forgotten that you and I are not normal people. We're smart, we're strong, we're financially stable…"

"Young, brilliant, incredibly good looking and ridiculously wealthy? You think that's going to hold back the tide?" Draco asked incredulously.

"Don't be glib, Draco, I'm being serious. Look at these people around us," Hermione said as she gestured to the enormous ball room they stood in. Somewhere in the press of well-dressed people were four of their close friends, but for right now she and Draco were lost in a sea of anonymous humanity.

"Look," she said. "Not everyone has to go through everything you and I have gone through, and bully for them. But we're not a couple of fools wandering around in the world. We ARE smart, we ARE strong, and we're damned good fighters if I say so myself. Whatever does come for us, don't you think that you and I are far better prepared than a regular young couple? I mean, honestly, Draco. We're practically superheroes compared to the average person."

Draco raised an eyebrow in faux shock. "Ms. Granger! I don't believe I've ever heard you say something so arrogant in the entire decade I've known you. I really am rubbing off on you!"

Hermione giggled. "Be serious, Draco! Think about it. We have secret identities, secret fortunes, secret skills…"

Draco warmed up to her imagery. "Don't forget the fact that our regular daily costumes used to include cloaks, and the fact that I have actually flown faster than a speeding bullet." He laughed in delight as Hermione held onto her stomach and shuddered. He bent down and whispered in her ear. "One day, Little Girl, I'm going to get you on a broom. And I promise to make it an experience worth repeating." Then he licked the side of her neck, just under her jaw. Hermione shuddered again.

Draco stood back up straight and looked her in the eye. "You don't believe me?" he asked.

"Actually I do believe you, Draco. I have a feeling you of all people would be able to convince me to enjoy flying on a broom," Hermione said, then tipped her champagne glass to empty it.

"Well, it IS one of my secret skills," Draco bragged. Hermione's eyebrow lifted in query, so he bent to her ear again and whispered, "Getting you to bend to my will, Love. I did, after all, just convince you to shag me in a public toilet."

Hermione's laughter rang out, causing many heads to turn in their direction. Draco smirked down at his girlfriend, but then his head snapped up as he heard his name being called. A red-bearded and tuxedoed Shaun Fraser wove through the crowd, with his wife, young Renton, and Lindy trailing along behind them. Shaun was waving his mobile in the air, and Sue, Lindy and young Renton each held two champagne flutes.

"Oi, you two! We've been looking for you all over! We have to celebrate!" Shaun called as the couples converged together. Once everyone held a champagne glass, Shaun held up his mobile and read from the screen.

"Gwendolyn and Michael would like to announce the arrival of their son, Gabriel Scott MacLeod, born at 12:03 in this new year. Weighing in at three point four kilograms and measuring forty-nine and a half centimeters."

Hermione, Sue and Lindy all cheered and cooed and squealed with happiness, and the men all laughed at the odd noises coming from their companions.

Shaun held up his champagne flute and shouted, "To new beginnings! To health and happiness, and bountiful bairns for you all!"

Young Renton and Draco both groaned in mock horror, but good-naturedly clinked glasses with the rest of the group.

Sue raised her glass and said, "To a new life, to a new family, and to a bright and wonderful future!"

Young Renton piped in, "To birth control! Sorry love, not this year, please!" Lindy rolled her eyes, then she and Hermione laughed as Draco raised his glass in young Renton's direction.

"I'd like to second that. Shaun, you're a sick man to wish that on us now," he said, and Hermione patted his arm comfortingly.

"I'd like to third that," she said. "I've got puppies to potty-train."

Lindy's eyes widened as she looked up at her husband beseechingly. "Can we please get a puppy? Please?" She batted her eyelashes at her bemused spouse, who nodded in silent agreement. Everyone laughed again as Lindy clapped her hands and jumped up and down.

"Oh ho! My New Year's prophecy has already come true!" Shaun declared, and waved a passing waiter over to claim six new flutes.

"Shaun, dear, you wished them all babies," Sue pointed out.

"Depends on how you look at it, Susie," Shaun said as he passed out the full champagne glasses and collected the empties for the waiter. "Baby dogs are after all, still babies. I'm sure Draco and young Renton will agree with me."

Sue, Lindy and Hermione all laughed as Draco and young Renton nodded hastily.

"Definitely," Draco said.

"I completely agree," young Renton added.

/.../

_To: bibliophile3_

_From: bibliophile1_

_Subject: Spies in Little Whinging?_

_Dear Mafalda,_

_Happy New Year and all that shite, but you know damned well that's not why I'm sending you an email in the middle of the fucking night. Number One, who the hell is Arabella Figg and why wasn't I told about her? And Number Two, who was the ginger haired and cloaked individual standing outside mine and Hermione's building this evening? Are we being watched? What the fuck is going on?_

_Please tell me you know something about this, because if you don't, I'm going to beg that you make it your business to find out. _

_DAM_

/…../

Artemis and Apollo Granger-Malfoy tugged on their leashes to encourage their owner to walk faster. They had almost made it through the alleyway that led towards the infinitely large and exciting wonderland that was the Park, and both puppies had one thing on their mind: reconnaissance.

Well, that, and squirrels. Reconnaissance and squirrels.

But their owner would not be rushed. He stopped suddenly, halfway down the alley, and stooped to observe a space against the brick wall. Artemis and Apollo came to investigate as well. There was a set of boot prints in the otherwise unmarked snow. One set. No trail in, no trail out.

Draco's face drained of color as he took in the implications of the single pair of boot prints in the snow. He turned his head up to view the steep, two-story brickwork directly in front of him. No, unless it was God-damned Spiderman that he'd seen, a wizard had Apparated in and out of this exact location last night.

Bugger and fuck-all.

And why the hell hadn't he heard back from Mafalda yet? She'd seemed perfectly sanguine with the idea of the Blackberry when he gave it to her at Christmas, and they'd exchanged several emails in the days immediately following. He didn't have time for a bloody letter to make it through the post – those seemed to take nearly a week to get from Draco into Mafalda's hands.

Suddenly Draco thought of his other, all new, option for quick contact into the Ministry. It was time for him to have a talk with Ms. Arabella Figg.

Draco pulled his mobile out of his jumper pocket and dialed up Renny.

"Hey, Ren, what do you think of a double date this evening with your new lady friend? Hermione's quite excited to meet her," he said.

/…../

Later that same evening, Hermione and Renny dipped into Hermione's practice studio to fiddle around with a new song while Draco cleared the dinner dishes. He watched Bella out of the corner of his eye as he loaded the plates into the dish washer. She sat on the couch with Apollo, who was busy chewing happily on her hand as she petted his belly. There was not a single thing either threatening or even shifty about the woman, so Draco couldn't for the life of him understand why the woman hadn't revealed her true identity to him months before.

Draco walked into the living area and set a tea mug down the table in front of the older woman, then sat down on the couch next to her.

"So," Draco said, "maybe we can introduce ourselves properly now, eh?" He held out his hand. "Draco Malfoy, former Second Aerial Captain, Order of the Phoenix. Order of Merlin, Third Class. Suppressed wizard, convicted of crimes against humanity while under-age, and sentenced to five years in exile, which I am currently serving here in Little Whinging. And you are?"

Bella shook his outstretched hand. "Draco, I didn't know it would matter to you either way who I was. It's not my position-"

Draco cut her off, even as he continued to shake her hand. "Who. Are. You?"

Bella sighed. "Arabella Figg. Watcher, currently serving the Order of the Phoenix under direct command of Minister Shackelbolt. Squib. Widowed by Death Eaters and recruited to the Order by my elder brother and by Albus Dumbledore before you and young Harry were even born."

Draco frowned. "I didn't know we had any squib Watchers."

"Well, it's not exactly information necessary for you to have to fight on the front lines, you know? And besides, we squibs have no way of defending ourselves if our identity is discovered. So, no. You wouldn't have known. The squib Watchers report directly to the head of the Order only, and only the head of the Order knows whom they all are, or where they're located. I've had this assignment for a long time, Draco. It's only been a couple of years between Harry's departure and your arrival, and in that time we fought a nasty war. Well, you lot did. I just sat out here and watched the Muggles." Bella shrugged. "But we all do our part, and eventually the Light will win. Don't you agree?"

Draco waved his hand. "That's entirely beside the point. What I want to know is, why have you been watching me for months, but never let me know who you really are? You saw that I was having a rough go of it before Hermione came along. Why didn't you step in, offer assistance? I can't imagine it's because you despise me, because there'd be no need to befriend me if that was the case. And if you're reporting to the Minister, who else knows I'm here? My true location is supposed to be somewhat of a secret, you know? And Hermione's too, for that matter."

"Oh, it's nothing so nefarious as what you're presuming, Draco. As far as I'm aware Minister Shackelbolt and Ms. Hopkirk are the only ones who know of your whereabouts. I just didn't want to bother you unless it was absolutely necessary that I step in. After all, it blows my cover too if we're positively identified together. Truly, I've just been doing my job, and I was specifically asked not to interfere. But now, with Mordecai…" Bella drifted off as a faint blush covered her cheeks.

Draco frowned. "Are you doing that on purpose? Seeing Renny to gain association with Hermione and I? Because that's-"

"Oh! No, no, Draco. I could never use someone like that, especially an innocent man like Mordecai. He's a very nice man, don't you think?" Bella's cheeks turned a deeper pink.

"Yes, he is a nice man, and I don't want you messing him about," Draco snapped. Then he sighed. "Sorry. Look, I don't like being kept in the dark. It's kind of been the story of my life, and I was really hoping to get away from all that shite. So, in the future, don't hide from me. You're not the only one with no way to defend yourself if your cover is blown. I've got Hermione to think about too, and she's a rather high-profile target, I warrant, for some rogue Death Eater-" Draco cut himself off.

"Wait a second. Bella, what do you know about the wizard I saw watching our front door last night? Is there someone guarding us that I just wasn't informed about, or are Hermione and I being watched by someone else? I've asked Mafalda, but I haven't gotten any reply from her."

Bella's eyes went wide and round with surprise. "No, Draco, you're not being watched by anyone except me, as far as I've been made aware. But I'll owl the Minister this evening to ask, to be sure. Could you give me a description of the wizard so I can include it?"

Draco shook his head. "Not really. I saw his cloak snap in the wind, and he disappeared within a moment after I turned my head towards the movement. I didn't hear him Disapparate, so he likely just Disillusioned himself, or merely pulled far enough into shadow I couldn't see him anymore. All I could say was that he was a least near my height, which is why I'm assuming it was a wizard and not a witch, and possibly ginger-haired."

"Oh dear, that's not a lot to go on, Draco. How do you know it was a wizard then? Couldn't it have just been a person with a blanket?" Arabella asked.

Draco shook his head. "Unless that person dropped straight out of the sky to land in the snow, then jumped straight back up into the sky exactly the way he came in. He left no trail in and out, so he could have only gone up and out. And last I heard, Hermione and I were the only people close to capable of those kinds of activities that lived around here. And since neither of us has a wand right now, I am positive it was neither her nor I."

"I really have no idea, Draco, but I promise I'll write to the Minister immediately to find out."

"Why not Mafalda?" Draco asked.

Bella stood up and reached to take her and Draco's mugs to the kitchen sink. "Honestly, this is an Order matter, and Kingsley is still the head of the Order. Mafalda is a competent enough witch, but she was a file clerk for the Wizengamot before she became a judge. Whereas Kingsley-"

"Whereas Kinglsey is an Auror first, politician second. I see your point. Look, Bella. You have access I don't, and I can't leave this unresolved. There was someone here last night. That someone specifically saw Hermione and I walk out of our home together and get in our car. While you're waiting to hear back from the Minister, Hermione and I have already started doing perimeter sweeps of our building just to make sure we can't find any signs of tampering. But we have no idea what can slip by us, being Muggles. I want this resolved within a week. If I don't hear anything, I'm going to presume the worst. And if I don't hear something by the end of the week, I'm packing my family up and leaving."

To Be Continued.

**Author's Note: So, yes. Fred lives… Sorry, there's no way I could kill off Fred. Also, to everyone who reviewed the pants off my past chapter, thank you so much! I got a lot of insight as to how you all are viewing my progress, and that helps my writing tremendously. It really does! Remember, reviews aren't just an author's way of digging for compliments, they're a big help in our creative process. **

**And finally, I really enjoy communicating with you all via pm's, but I'm starting to confuse the shite out of myself, with who I have and have not told what. Also, there's all these little oddities that come into my mind that I'd love to tell you all that have to do with this story, or photos I'd like to post, but I just can't do on our beloved fanfiction site – so I started a twitter account. I'm gasping in horror at the arrogance of it, because I've always thought of twitter as being something for cool people that actually have kitchy little cool things to tell all their cool fans… But the thing is, I don't want to use Facebook, the pm's are truly starting to confuse the shite out of me (not that I won't pm you all anymore, I'm just rather disorganized right now and I don't want to let anything slip through the cracks un-noticed!), and I do have lots of kitchy little cool things in my crazy-arse writer's mind I'd like to share with anyone who wants to know. **

**So… yeh. Twitter. It's not just for cool people! Okay, so I'm not super savvy on this whole thing, but the twitter address is acro_acro1. My name on there, believe it or not, is acro acro. **


	24. Ch 24 And Then There Was Jamie

**Author's Note: I own no person, no place, no thing – except the plot! If you recognize it, it probably belongs to Ms. Rowling or some other awesome super-human**.

**Chapter 24 And Then There Was Jamie**

"Please?"

"It's your damn turn, you realize that."

"But _Draco_…"

"Why on earth are you whining? It's called an even division of responsibility. Says so on that bloody chart you've created and stuck to the fridge. I took them out last night. So get your arse out of the bed and go walk them before one of them has an accident!" Draco grumbled as he pushed his girlfriend resolutely away from him so that he could steal her pillows and block out the morning sunshine.

"I'll make french toast!" Hermione wheedled as she scrambled on top of Draco's back and peppered his shoulders with kisses.

Draco snorted. His muffled voice drifted up from under the pillows. "You're asking me to give up at least forty-five minutes of quality sleep to go tromp around in the snow with two incontinent beasts, and then do a perimeter sweep of our building which includes, might I add, climbing onto the roof AND slogging all the way through the garage and storage room, in exchange for a bloody plate of French toast? Piss off, woman."

"French toast and a blow job!" Hermione cried as she wiggled against him in hopes of enticing his natural male instincts.

Draco turned his head so that he could glare at her balefully with one gray eye. "No thanks. Got one last night, so I'm all set. Your negotiating skills are atrocious, Girl. You can't manipulate me with something I already get on a regular basis."

Hermione groaned. "But Draco, I really, really don't want to go! Okay, how about this? French toast for breakfast, a blow job, a foot massage, and I'll do the grocery shopping by myself and I'll even make cioppino for dinner when Renny and Arabella come over this evening if you just please, please, please, take the puppies out!" She snuggled against him and gazed innocently into his one visible eye. It blinked as he considered.

Draco pulled the pillows back down on top of his head so that Hermione couldn't see the grin that spread across his face. She'd never learn would she? Once a Slytherin, always a Slytherin. Can't out-manipulate the master of manipulation. He honestly didn't mind the cold that much, not nearly as much as Hermione did, and he certainly would rather do the perimeter checks himself.

It had been nearly a week since he'd seen the footprints in the snow across from the front of their building, and he still hadn't heard a word from Mafalda, the useless cow. Knowing her, the Blackberry he'd given her for Christmas was either already lost, or she'd probably had let the battery run out and had forgotten that all-important instruction that she was supposed to re-charge it on a regular basis.

Arabella had heard nothing from the Minister outside of the fact that there were no records of any magic user anywhere near their home over the last several months, outside of Mafalda, of course. When he'd told Hermione this, she'd pointed out that the information was as good as useless since the Weasley twins had perfected and marketed cloaks that covered the trail of a magic user from any kind of detection. They were expensive, but very much available to the public.

The stress of the potential threat to his and Hermione's safety was wearing him down. Sleep was getting more and more elusive, thus the overwhelming desire to stay comfortably ensconced in the warm pillows. But he'd far rather it be him that came upon the unknown threat than Hermione. When it came down to it, without magic they were both easy prey, but Hermione had a far greater chance of being seriously hurt with her bad ankle, her still slightly weak lung, and her ridiculous aversion to heights.

So really, he would have taken the puppies out this morning anyway, but it was so much more satisfying to get something out of the deal. And a free ticket out of grocery shopping, a serving of oral sex, a foot rub, and some of his favorite home-cooked winter-time comfort foods seemed like a well made negotiation considering he'd only been awake for ten minutes.

Draco pulled the pillow off of his head and sat up. He smirked at his girlfriend, who was still batting her eyelashes at him and gripping her hands in supplication. "Ms. Granger, you have a deal," he said.

Half and hour later Draco's mobile pinged from the pocket of his hooded jumper. He dropped his glasses onto his eyes, pulled the mobile out and looked at the email, then groaned.

_To: bibliophile1_

_From: bibliophile2_

_Subject: Plus two!_

_Draco, you know how much I love and appreciate you? Like, really, really? Because I was just looking through the cupboards for the challah bread to cut up for your breakfast, but it's gone all spotty, so I can't use it, and naturally I'd rather make you the best French toast ever since you really deserve it, right? So, could you pop over to the baker's shop and pick up a loaf of challah bread? Pretty please, oh love of my life?_

_Oh, and a Saturday paper would be fantastic as well! _

_I owe you two extra favors for this! _

_Your wonderfully appreciative LG._

He clicked to reply to Hermione's email, then tugged on Artemis and Apollo to encourage them to join him on a stroll down the lane towards the baker's shop around the corner.

"Come on kids, your pseudo-mother has sent us on a merry hunt. It's off to the baker's, eh?" Draco looked down at his little white companions fondly. They were snuffling the ground all around until he spoke to them, at which point their attention snapped up to his face. Artemis and Apollo immediately wagged their little tails and tried to climb up his legs, but he just shook his head and urged them onwards down the sidewalk.

"This way now, you two. Let's go see if we can scare any squirrels on our way, yeh?"

_To: bibliophile2_

_From: bibliophile1_

_Subject: Re: Plus two!_

_LG, _

_I loathe you. But yes, plus two works for me. _

_You'd better have coffee ready when I get back._

_DAM_

_P.S. All clear out here. _

In retrospect, Draco's post-script was entirely wrong, because when he and the puppies returned from their expedition to the baker's with a bag of bread and the Saturday paper, the perimeter had been breached. Draco didn't realize anything was amiss, however, until Artemis and Apollo started yipping frantically. They'd just turned the corner that led around the front side of the salon on the far side of their building, and Draco had his nose buried in the morning's front page headlines, when the puppies went berserk and several voices hissed protest.

Draco's head snapped up. Three cloaked individuals stood at the front door of the Fortress. Three cloaked individuals with ginger hair and expressions of shocked askance on their faces. He locked eyes with the smallest of the three, who had its hands wrapped protectively around its mid-section.

"Shite," Draco said.

"Call your dogs down, Malfoy," one twin said.

Draco flicked his eyes over to the twin who'd spoken. The man was extracting a wand from his pocket.

"Weasely," Draco snapped. "They're babies, you twat. Put your fucking wand away. They don't mean you any harm, they're just excited." With that, Draco knelt down and pushed his hands down on Artemis and Apollo's backsides, encouraging them to sit. Once he'd settled the puppies down – marginally – he looked up at the three Weasels.

Fred Weasley, George Weasley, Ginevra Weasley. Well, Ginevra Weasley plus one, eh?

Draco nodded to her midsection. "That a Potter in there?"

Ginny rolled her eyes.

"How do we get inside Malfoy? The door won't unlock for us," the two-eared twin said. Fred, that one was.

"What's your business here, Weasley?" Draco asked as he crossed his arms.

"Ginny wants 'Mione. We've been looking for her for ages," George said.

"What if Hermione didn't want to be found? Why didn't you respect her wishes?" Draco said as he maneuvered himself in front of their door.

"What is it to you, Malfoy? Are you holding her prisoner or something?" Fred asked, not unkindly, but with definite curiosity.

Now it was Draco's turn to roll his eyes. "Good God, you're thick. Of course not. We live together. Surely you've figured that out already since you've been stalking us for at least a week or so."

Ginny raised a hand. "Malfoy, please," she said quietly. Draco looked closely at the small woman. She was wax-pale and exhausted looking. Empathy, not just for her, but for his still-grieving girlfriend upstairs, over-ruled his desire for privacy from the Weasels of the Wizarding World. He sighed.

The tide had come. Best just swim with it.

"You're about to pop, eh? Our friends just had their son on New Years, and she looked like you for the last two weeks before she delivered. Come on, let's get you upstairs." With that, Draco turned his back on the three shocked gingers, and started unlocking the Fortress.

"Incidentally," he said, "They're goblin-made. The doors, that is. Hermione had them made to keep magical folk from bursting in unannounced – as you lot obviously intended to do. It's two flights of stairs up, gents, you'd better put a Feather-Light charm on your sister and give her a boost." Draco tugged on Artemis and Apollo, who'd been busily sniffing the feet and legs of their visitors, and held the first door open until the three Weasley's and one soon-to-be-Potter crossed the threshold.

"So… Malfoy…" one twin began.

"What's a bloke like me doing in a place like this?" Draco asked wryly as he unlocked the second set of doors. The three Weasley's nodded.

"Exile," he said with a shrug. "The Wizengamot wanted to hide me in plain sight, as it were. I work at the Library, and I live here. These are my dogs, and upstairs is my girlfriend. Now how's about you lot answer me a question. What's it to you?"

George, the missing ear noticeable from Draco's viewpoint, answered for the three. "Ginny wants 'Mione, we told you."

Draco looked at the white-faced Ginny, who was being gently hovered up the stairs. "Why?" he asked.

Ginny patted her ripe belly. "For Jamie. I… I knew Harry would never want Hermione to miss out on Jamie. And I don't want to raise him in the Wizarding World. I need her help, Malfoy. I can't do this without her." She smiled sadly. "Besides, Hermione left before I realized Jamie was coming. I at least want her to have the opportunity to know him – you know?"

The four adults and two puppies finally stood at the front door to the Fortress. Draco, once again, stood between the others and his door.

"Look," he began. "I'm no fool. I know Hermione misses Potter badly, and will be over the moon about the baby. But I have an obligation to protect my family here. Hermione has chosen to leave the Wizarding World, and I don't want her bullied or guilted into returning."

Fred, George, and Ginny all cocked their heads to the right. "We couldn't agree more," they said in unison.

Draco flinched. "Er. Yeh, that was bloody creepy." With that, he turned and punched in the six-digit code. He heard Ginny chuckle behind him. "What's so funny, Weaselette?"

"Your passcode is Harry's birthday? I didn't know you cared so much, Malfoy," she teased sadly.

Now it was Draco's turn to cock his head to the right. Zero-seven-three… Bugger, he'd never noticed that before. "That's on Hermione, not me." With that, he opened the front door.

/…../

Hermione stood at the stove, frying up pieces of sausage and sipping coffee when she heard the familiar beep of the front door unlocking and opening.

"Hey, Love. We have company," Draco called in a somber tone that had her whipping her head to the left. Artemis and Apollo, now free of their leashes, streaked into the flat and ran for their food bowls. Draco held a loaf of bread and a newspaper under one arm, and with his other arm he beckoned three cloaked individuals inside.

Hermione froze.

"Draco?" she whispered.

"It's okay, Love. You'll like this," he said.

Ginny folded back her hood, and said, "'Mione…" in a low whine that was almost a sob.

Hermione stared at a face that, like hers and Draco's, had changed so much in the months since the War had ended. Ginny looked awful though. Sunken-eyed and hollow-cheeked and sick. Hermione stumbled forward a step or two in immediate guilt that the girl had been left to grieve for Harry alone, when she suddenly noticed Ginny's hands. Skeletal thin fingers spread across the rounded swelling of a baby-bump that was so far gone-

"Oh my… oh, God," Hermione whispered. Her eyes raced up to Ginny's, then across the two twins, then to Draco. Draco, who just nodded his head and gave her a small smile.

"'Mione, please…" Ginny pleaded. She held out one hand, and Hermione stumbled forward to grasp it. Ginny immediately placed Hermione's hand on her roiling, writhing stomach, and said, "Hermione Jean Granger, meet Harry James Potter, Junior. He's your godson."

Hermione met Ginny's eyes with incredulous wonder. She giggled, then she started to laugh. And then the laugh turned to a sob as Hermione shattered. Her knees buckled, and it seemed as though cracks in her skin burst directly outward from underneath her beautiful gold locket that Draco had given her months before. Hermione splintered into white-hot grief and anguish, and she burst into violent tears as she dropped to the floor in front of Ginny and buried her face in her hands.

It only took Draco a split-second to react. He dashed around the Weasels and scooped Hermione into his arms.

"Come on Love, up off the floor with you. Ginny, you can sit with her in here, yeh?" he said, and carried his girlfriend into their bedroom. Draco kissed Hermione on the forehead once he'd tucked her into the pillows, then he turned to help Ginny clamber onto the mattress next to her.

Draco had been waiting for three months for Hermione to acknowledge and grieve for her losses. She was the type of person who loved so fiercely, there was no way she could have recovered from the War and Potter's death in the short, frantic months before he'd run into her here in Little Whinging. As close as siblings, Hermione could barely mention Harry's name anymore without growing deeply melancholy, but she never wanted to discuss it. And while they'd honestly had a wonderful time being together, Draco wasn't foolish enough to refuse to admit that he and Hermione both were still pretty messed up people. But where they could address the issue of her invalid parents, since they visited the Grangers every other weekend, there was nothing anyone could do about Potter's hideous absence.

Draco hoped to God that Ginny's presence here would have a positive outcome for his girlfriend. He sent up a quick prayer that it would be so.

Draco turned to walk out of the room as soon as he saw the two girls meet in the middle of the bed to cling to each other, and called back, "Call if you need anything, Little Girl." Then he shut the door and faced the twins.

/…../

"And, that's it. We've been pretty happy here since. Well, that's an understatement. It's been bloody wonderful. I can't honestly remember being happier at any point in my life," Draco concluded his story to Fred and George as the three of them sat around the dining table. They'd just finished polishing off scrambled eggs, toast and the sausages that Hermione had already made, along with two pots of coffee. Draco was surprised, despite the wariness that Fred and George had displayed out on the street, that the twins didn't seem averse to speaking to him or spending time in his presence at all – unlike another Weasel he knew…

"Look," Draco said. "I don't mean to be rude, but, where's your brother fitting in all this?"

Fred and George looked at each other, and Fred gave George a small nod.

George said, "Well, I should start by saying we're all right chuffed about Jamie. The baby, that is. That's what we're calling him. There's no way Ginny can raise a normal kid if he's named Harry Potter Junior, you know? So he's going to commonly be known as Jamie Weasley. That's kind of why we're here though, isn't it? Ginny can't raise Jamie in the Wizarding World, just like Dumbledore didn't want Harry raised up in the Wizarding World. It'd make him a weird kid, plus he'd have a fair huge target on his head, you know? Well we sure as hell don't know how to live like Muggles. But 'Mione does. Not that Ginny wants to give the baby up, mind you! She wants out though, and she needs protecting. We've managed to hide her condition from the public. Seriously, mate, no one knows. Well now, ol' Hopkirk knows, but that's only because Ginny showed her, you know? Just like she showed you and Hermione, but you're both Muggles so I expect it's different… We're all under an Unbreakable Vow, see. So we can't blab. Not even ickle Ronnie-"

"Who is where, exactly?" Draco growled.

The twins did that funny head cocking thing again. "Norway, why?" they asked in unison.

"You know why," Draco said.

Fred took up the conversation thread. "Look, Malfoy, we've already told you we're not here to cause trouble for you and 'Mione. Thing is, we waited for Ron to leave town before we came out here to keep him from following us. He's not exactly happy with Ms. Granger right now-"

"I don't see where it's any of his God-damned business to be _anything_ with Hermione, considering the way he treated her! She's fucking terrified of him!" Draco hissed.

That brought the twins up short. "Why?" they asked in unison, again.

Draco brought his hands down onto the table. "Look, I understand he's your brother and all, but Ron was a right arse to Hermione, and it's taken her months to relax enough that she can even sleep through the night. You saw the locks on those doors. She spent her first month out here hiding under her bed, petrified that Ron was going to track her down and drag her back to the Ministry. When I told her last week that I saw a ginger haired wizard hanging out in the alleyway across from our front door, she actually got sick. Seriously, she ran to the restroom and vomited. Hermione. Is. Fucking. Terrified. Of. Ron. That being said, I think what it comes down to is she just associates him with all the bad things that happened over the past few years, and the girl is hell-bent on running as far from it as possible. And she's happy here. She's able to take care of her parents, she goes to church and plays her violin, she has her ridiculously large personal library over there, and she's got me and the puppies. And we have a great circle of friends. She's doing well here. If Ginny wants to join her, well, we'll all figure something out. Hermione and I have plenty of money, and her money all came from Potter anyway, so it might as well go right back to his family. But no Ron. I won't have him bullying or harrassing her."

Fred snorted and George looked at him incredulously. "Seriously, who are you, and what did you do with Draco Malfoy, Hogwarts Bully and Primary Granger Harasser?"

Draco narrowed his eyes. "Hermione and I have made peace with our childhood issues, I assure you. But I'm serious you two. I will take her and run if I even catch a hint of a rumor that he's gotten wind of her location. If Hermione ever sees Ron again, it will be on her terms, not his."

Both of the twins held their hands up in self-defense. "We know, we got it," they said.

"Believe me," Fred added, "We wouldn't want Ron anywhere near this situation. He's been… volatile… since you lot left town. The press hounds him whenever he's in town; he can barely spit without it showing up on the front page of the Prophet. And the Ministry was so dead set on him becoming an Auror to clean up the last of the Death Eater cells, they've run him ragged. The rest of us have spent time with Healers, have talked through our issues, have even taken rounds of potions to help with depression or what have you, but not Ron. With Hermione and Harry gone, he's shouldered the entire post-war spotlight and responsibility, and it's tearing him apart, you know? I mean, for us, the violence all stopped months ago, but for Ron, he's still in the thick of it. From what Georgie and I can figure, it's why he's so bloody angry with Hermione. She stuck him with the entire Golden Trio legacy, with the added public shame of their break-up, and then had the audacity to lie and disappear."

"Shite," Draco muttered. "That's got to suck. No wonder he's pissed."

"Indeed, my friend. Anyhoo, here's what we _know_ Ron knows. He tracked 'Mione's magical signature to Hopkirk's private office, the one under the courtroom, you know? Right, so the trail stopped cold there. So he figured she'd gone Muggle. Kind of made her hard to track."

"Damn near impossible," George agreed.

Fred nodded, and continued. "So Ginny went by there right before Christmas to talk to ol' Hoppy and discovered this cozy and romantic looking holiday photo of two Muggles all snuggled up in the snow together – and the female looked suspiciously like 'Mione. Well Ron knows about that, that 'Mione's a Muggle with a Muggle boyfriend. Flew right off the fucking deep end of crazy-shit when Ginny told him that one, because he figured it meant she'd actually dumped him for some other bloke and just took off. But he doesn't know it's YOU. Helga on a hippogriff, that was a shock when I saw the photo of you two in the Muggle newspaper. When I saw that you lot were in Surrey, I came to Little Whinging and started looking around. It only took me a day or so to figure out where you live."

"Shite," Draco gasped. "Is that all? A day?" He dropped his head into his hands. "Fucking Sutton!" he groaned. "I didn't even know our photo was taken that day! I can't protect her, and I can't expect any help from the Ministry. We'll have to run. If it was that easy for you lot to find us, anyone can find us. I have so many more enemies than her, and they'd kill her without thinking. Fuck!" He stood suddenly.

"What?" The twins asked.

"We can't stay here! I have literally no way to protect my family! For crying out loud, people could just fucking Apparate right into my living room if they want to! Mafalda does! Who knows if the press followed you, or Death Eaters, or – oh God, the Greengrass's – oh that'd be a fucking nightmare!" Draco started pacing, then suddenly whipped around and dashed to the small desk where Hermione kept all of their household bills and documents. There was a small safe with their bank deposit keys inside, and he needed to start collecting their valuables.

Fred and George had a brief but quiet discussion once they realized the magnitude of Draco's fear. The man wasn't kidding, and he wasn't being a coward. The Weasley's were careful, but they'd potentially put Draco and Hermione in tremendous danger if anyone had been savvy enough to follow them.

"Look, Draco, mate," George called. "Come sit down for a mo'," he said as he waved to the distraught man that was piling envelopes and papers on top of the kitchen counter.

Draco's head snapped up, and he glared at the twins. "What?" he bit out.

"Look, you're obviously distraught over this whole thing, and we get that. And you're absolutely right that anyone clever enough could have followed us, or could figure out where you two are. Well, in light of your complete willingness to help with the Jamie situation, and the fact that we brought this mess to your door, Freddie and I can certainly cast a few wards over your flat. It's not even illegal," George offered.

Draco's shoulders slumped. "God, that would be brilliant. Are you any good at it? Because I know quite a few good ones I'd like you to use, if you don't mind. Old Malfoy stuff, you know?"

Fred nodded sagely. "Ah, the young Malfoy heir has much knowledge he wishes to share, and we shall hear it, but in turn we offer that our eldest brother Bill is a curse-breaker and has taught us many crafty and archaic tricks as well."

"Let us convene!" George cried.

Draco rolled his eyes. "You two are rather odd, anyone ever tell you that?"

/…../

Hermione cradled Ginny in her arms and cried a river of regret. In her entire life, she'd never felt the sting of guilt as harshly as she did when she'd seen Ginny, sick half to death with a pregnancy that was sapping her life force. She should have been there. Should have stayed. Should have known!

"'Mione, please, I'm going to drown if you don't stop all the waterworks," Ginny sniffled. Her own joy in seeing her long missing friend was rapidly falling away. Hermione wasn't handling this terribly well at all.

"I'm sooo, sooo, sorry!" Hermione wailed, for the fifth time in ten minutes.

/…../

"Are you done blubbering now?" Ginny asked archly.

Hermione nodded miserably, and her eyes filled with tears again. She'd long ago given up on the tissues and had settled for a hand towel – much more absorbability – especially once Ginny complained that the front of her jumper was soaked through. Now Ginny sat propped up in Hermione and Draco's bed wearing one of Draco's t-shirts – and stretching the midsection quite horridly out of shape. Hermione hopped off the bed to accept the mugs of tea from Draco. He kissed Hermione on the forehead again before he closed the door behind him. Hermione passed a mug to Ginny, then folded herself into the bed beside her friend.

And her friend's belly. It wiggled and shook, as if an earthquake had taken over.

"I've never seen a pregnant tummy move like yours does, Gin," Hermione said fondly, as she reached out to stroke Ginny's cotton covered mid-section.

"Neither have I. Or even Mum. He's very active, and strong. Sucks the energy right out of me, really. It's all I can do to keep fed enough to support him, which is why I look so bloody dreadful. The least bit of magic use gets him riled up, to the point where I use it as little as possible. I don't even carry my wand anymore because he makes things happen when it's near."

"Wow, that's…" Hermione began.

"Unusual, yes. But it's funny too, you know? I've almost been living like a Muggle these past months, so I figured I might as well seriously sit down and consider my options. I can't raise Jamie under the noses of the Ministry and the Prophet. He'd be a freak and a figurehead before his first birthday."

"That's why Dumbledore left Harry with the Dursley's…" Hermione drifted off with a frown. The Dursley's had been awful to Harry, but what kind of boy would he have become if he'd been raised within the Wizarding community?

Ugh, freak and figurehead, indeed.

"So, that's essentially why I've been looking for you. Or well, I've been hunting you down, I guess. I'm sorry, Hermione, it's just… Harry wanted this, for us to be together in each other's lives somehow, and I have no idea how to live in the Muggle world. And who else can I even trust not to sell Jamie's identity to the highest bidder?" Ginny wrapped her thin fingers around her mug and absently rolled it back and forth in her palms. "I don't have much time left, maybe a week or so. We really left this down to the last because of Ron, and because Mafalda refused to give up your location. Loyal, that woman is. Takes her job seriously."

"Ginny… What about Ron?" Hermione asked nervously.

"Oh, you know how he is. Big hero, got to protect everyone. Hasn't taken a day off since the war ended, you know? Honestly, 'Mione, he's going mad. He's so angry all the time, and he's so overwhelmed… He's not the same anymore, and while I'm not scared of him for myself, I have to say he's enormously angry with you," Ginny said quietly.

"Because I left him," Hermione said, nodding her head.

Ginny shook hers in the negative. "Because you lied to him."

Hermione blanched.

Ginny shook her head again. "Look, let's not talk about that all right now. I want to hear about you and Malfoy! How in the world did you two end up hooking up? Did you really leave to follow him?"

Hermione scoffed. "As if! I had enough problems when I left. I certainly wasn't cheating on Ron, and I was just as shocked as anyone could have been when I walked into the town's Library and ran into him…"

/…../

Hermione stretched her legs and dragged her stiff body off of the bed, then walked around to help Ginny out as well.

"Smells like Draco's got lunch nearly done, let's get you and Jamie fed up, all right?" Hermione said as she led Ginny out of the bedroom. In the living room, Fred was playing with the puppies. Or rather, he was antagonizing the piss out of them, and having a merry time with it. George was in the kitchen with Draco, and waved the girls over to sit at the table. Soon the five were companionably eating lunch and developing Ginny's exit plan from the Wizarding Community.

"You know, Mafalda's great at this kind of shite, I can't believe you didn't talk to her first," Draco said.

The Weasley's all shrugged. Ginny said, "Honestly, Malfoy, I didn't want to tell anyone what I was up to. The less people that know about Jamie the better, as far as I'm concerned. Call it pregnancy paranoia, but I kind of put all my hopes in finding Hermione. And now I guess since that includes you too, I'll be counting on you not to rat me out to the press." She grinned at him, then reached over and stole the last piece of chicken that he'd been attempting to scoot onto his plate.

Draco scowled as Ginny took a big bite out of his chicken. "You know that goes both ways, Weaselette. You can't go giving our secret away either."

Ginny rolled her eyes as she chewed.

"So where do you want to live? Do you want to stay close to your parents in Devon, or are you looking for something near London and Diagon Alley?" Hermione asked.

Ginny was about to respond, but froze as Draco piped in. "You know, Arabella Figg told me the other night that Number 4 Privet Drive is up for sale. Seems the Dursley's finally gave out on trying to hold onto it. We could buy that. You could raise Jamie in the house his Dad grew up in, maybe make some better memories there, eh?"

Four pairs of eyes turned to Draco. "What?" he asked.

George whistled through his teeth. "That's bloody brilliant, mate."

"Aye," Fred said. "We already know it, and it may even still have a floo connection to the Burrow. Mum would love that."

Ginny and Hermione remained speechless, so Draco and the twins turned to them. "Well?" the three males asked in unison. Draco flinched when he realized he'd done accidental twin-speak.

Hermione's eyes watered as she turned to look at Ginny, who was still frozen, and whose face was turning bright red right in front of them. "What do you think Ginny? Want Harry's old house?"

"What do I think?" Ginny whispered. She darted her tongue out and licked her lips, still greasy from her nicked chicken, and shuddered. "I think my water just broke." Then she groaned and leaned over to clutch at her bump.

To Be Continued.

**Author's Note: Okay, so I struggled with this chapter because I had so many issues I wanted to touch at least lightly on, but I didn't want to resolve, but then I wanted it to be somewhat cohesive… Anyhoo, I'm sure you can all guess where the next chapter will be heading – which I have not written yet! That's right, I'm totally free-wheeling here at this point. Good thing I have the whole story planned out or I'd be panicking. Oh, and in case you were wondering, I'm going through the entire five years of Draco's exile, so obviously this story is nowhere near done. Yay!**

**Oh, and if you've gone and followed me on Twitter – thanks! I'm trying to figure out which people who followed me are you all and which ones are junk, so if you're from here, flag me in some way so I'll know it's you, and I'll follow you in return! I've tried to post up some pics of things that inspire me – including my part-labrador/part-polar bear traveling companion. **

**Acro**

**PS: To the writer of my very first angsty, angry negative review (1 in 400, not bad!), I hope that shoe leather tastes good. **


	25. Ch25 The Best of Me, The Best of You

**Author's Note: I own no person, no place, no thing – except the plot! If you recognize it, it probably belongs to Ms. Rowling or some other awesome super-human**.

**Chapter 25 The Best of Me, The Best of You**

By the time the screaming started, Hermione had already sent George off to retrieve Ginny's Mum. Draco and Fred, manly males that they were, did their best to stay out of Hermione's way while she tended to Ginny's rapidly progressing labor.

"He is moving way too fast," Hermione told Ginny in a stern voice. "You tell your son to slow down right now or I'm going to give him hell when he gets out!"

Ginny threw a furious glare at Hermione, and snarled, "I'll be first in line for doling out punishments. This fucking hurts- FUCKING! SHIT! OWOWOWOWOWOW!" She curled around her tensed belly and screeched her discomfort to the room at large.

"Girl, shouldn't we be taking her to hospital?" Draco asked from a safe distance away.

"I'd rather wait for her Mum before we decide on anything. Ginny, you and your Mum have a birth plan, right?"

Ginny glared at Hermione even harder than before. "Yes, the plan was to do this at the FUCKING Burrow. But I can't get there – SHIT – right now, can I?"

"Where the hell is George anyway? How hard could it be to Apparate to the Burrow, grab Mum, and Apparate back?" Fred groused. Watching his sister writhing around as if in the grips of a Cruciatus wasn't his favorite thing to do in the entire world.

Twenty minutes later, when George still hadn't turned back up yet, Hermione had Draco and Fred move Ginny from the couch to the bedroom, and started the process of lining their bed with as many spare towels as possible in anticipation of a very messy event. Hermione perused a medical text that had handy illustrations, and wrinkled her nose.

"Ginny, I know your Mum's not here, but do you mind if Freddie stays in here with you? This is going to get pretty graphic before Jamie arrives, but I'd like him to help control your pain if possib-"

"No magic!" Ginny gasped. "It makes Jamie go beserk! He'll hurt either himself or me! Freddie can… wait out there… for Mum!"

In between contractions, Ginny rested and stared at the ceiling. Tears streamed out of her eyes at random moments, and Hermione did her best to help keep her focused on Jamie's arrival instead of his father's absence. They talked about the house on Privet Drive: which room they could use as Jamie's nursery, which room they could set up as a guest room for visitors, how nice it would be to have the greenhouse in the back for spices, household potions and remedies, and that God-awful wallpaper that simply must come down immediately upon purchase-

"SHHHHIT! Where in Godric's fucking EARTH is MUM?!" Ginny screeched.

Draco and Freddie sat at the dining table, a bottle of single malt scotch between them.

"It's really quite nice stuff, Draco m'boy. Quite nice. Takes the edge off the terror without dulling the senses," Fred said conversationally, then winced as a string of shouted profanities split the room.

Draco nodded dully. He wasn't entirely sure he was comfortable with the idea of drinking himself into a stupor before suppertime, but the sounds coming from his bedroom, combined with the mounting dread induced by the idea of so many Weasley's descending on his home, was making him decidedly queasy.

"Sooo… seen any good Quidditch matches lately?" Fred asked.

Draco looked at him sharply. "No, you wanker. Muggle, remember? But thanks so much for reminding me of the best part of the Wizarding world that I love and miss so much. Maybe you'd like to show me your broom so we can see how I can't ride it too, eh?"

Fred snorted. "Sucks to be you mate. But really, can't be all bad, living out here with Hermione. There's got to be some good sports and hobbies, right?"

Draco nodded his head absently, then his eyes brightened. "Yeh, you know what, I got a motorbike just the other day. It's as good as flying, just on the ground, you know? It's so obscenely fast and dangerous, most Muggles won't even try it. Want to see it? It's just down in the gara-"

Pops of incoming Apparition cut off Draco's invitation to explore the wonders of his new hobby. Suddenly there were no less than seven more Weasley's standing in Draco's living room.

"Cripes, that's a lot of Weasels," Draco said companionably to Fred, who burst out of his chair and strode to his twin.

"Where in Merlin's name have you been?! Your sister is dying in there and you take your sweet time gathering up a family reunion?!" Fred shouted as he popped George on the back of the head. Molly and Arthur Weasley stood with their eldest soon Bill and his wife Fleur, who held their infant daughter Victoire, as well as Percy and George. The new arrivals took in the sight of Fred, and the blond Muggle man behind him, and varying levels of shock formed across their faces.

"I'm sorry!" George cried. "Mum wasn't at the house, so I went to the Ministry to ask Dad where she was, but he was having lunch with Percy so they insisted on coming with me when we went to Shell Cottage where Mum was having lunch with Bill and the girls, and everyone just wanted to be here for Ginny!"

"Blimey, Malfoy's really here, eh? So, where's 'Mione and Ginny?" Bill asked.

Percy strode across the room and held out his hand to Draco. "Malfoy, good to see you. Thank you so much for having us here today. I trust you are well?"

Draco stood with his mouth hanging slightly open, and shook first Percy's outstretched hand, then Arthur and Molly's as well.

"MOLLY WEASLEY YOU GET YOUR ARSE IN HERE RIGHT NOW!" Hermione's voice bellowed from the bedroom. Everyone jumped, and Molly's eyes got very wide as she turned to the sound of the shouted command.

"MUM-MAH!" Ginny's shriek split the room, and suddenly everyone was moving. Fleur turned to her husband.

"Bill, take the bebe. I must go help your Maman and sister." She pushed a squirming Victoire into her father's arms, and took Molly's hand as they dashed towards the open bedroom door that Draco pointed out.

"Malfoy!" Fleur called out as she pushed Molly inside the bedroom, "We shall need boiled water, a very sharp sterile knife, soap, many clean towels, two large bowls, and a bottle of olive oil! Tout de suite!" She ducked inside the room and made to shut the door.

"NO MAGIC!" Ginny screeched.

Fleur re-opened the door. "Gentlemen, your sister wishes to remind you that no magic can be used in this area. If you insist on using it, you could seriously hurt either her or Jamie. Malfoy! Immediatement!" Then she slammed the door in the men's surprised faces.

/…../

Molly Weasley was more than surprised to see Hermione Granger, who she'd long seen as a surrogate daughter, standing in front of her once again. The hurt and anguish for the stress and betrayal her children had felt at this girl's disappearance, however, was swept aside as she took in Hermione's hands on her hips and the fear in her eyes.

"Molly Weasley, there are more important things going on here than my sudden appearance. Ginny's not progressing properly and I don't know what to do!"

Molly's eyes shot to the bed, where Ginny Weasley was curled in a ball, gasping for air and shuddering with fear and pain. She nodded at Hermione and quickly leaned in to give her a crushing hug, then Molly bustled over to the bed to soothe her daughter's sweaty forehead with a caressing hand.

"Ginny! Oh dear, darling let's get a look at you, all right? Does your back hurt? Yes? Hermione, I'd like you to get behind Ginny and help her into a sitting position. Yes, get right behind her and support her weight. Good." Molly briskly took control of the situation, and the four women were plunged into the wholly primitive, yet wholly magical journey that was the life and death struggle of giving birth.

Fleur opened the door after a few moments to Draco's knock, and received the towels and other items she'd requested.

"No Ginny, you can't push yet, and you're wearing yourself and Jamie out by trying to do so. You have to resist it! No, dear, your body's not ready yet! Fleur, do you have the – yes, thank you dear." Molly set to work massaging oil into Ginny's tense muscles to prepare her daughter's body to deliver Jamie without injury to either of them.

After several minutes of coaxing and cooing, Molly said to the others, "You know, these are supposed to be happy events, and I'm sure you girls have many things to talk about. Fleur, why don't you tell Hermione about Victoire? Or Hermione, maybe you could tell us – well, something? Come on ladies, wipe off the sour faces!" Molly said the words in a teasing sing-song voice, but the sharp look in her eyes towards Fleur and Hermione told them that she was being deadly serious. A look down at Ginny's expression told everything they needed to know. She looked dejected, exhausted, and utterly anguished.

Hermione nodded and quickly jumped in. "Well, I already told Ginny about how I ran into Draco out here, but I could tell you two as well. You see, my parents didn't come out of the Obliviation charm I'd placed on them well at all. In fact, they're in a long-term care facility south of here…"

Soon the three women had Ginny stripped and groaning under the onslaught of massaging knuckles and elbows as they willed the tension away from her back and legs and swollen belly.

/…../

Fleur spoke quietly in the moments between Ginny's contractions as she rubbed her laboring sister's swollen feet.

"My Grandmere used to speak to me of the early days, when we women were left to our own devices when our time came to deliver our bebes. Witch or Muggle, wealthy or poor, the women of the family would gather together to support each other when a mother's labor approached. The men, they would go off and fight their monsters and hunt for food, and with those tasks they had their own traditions, and eventually their own bonding and magic associated with their traditions. But we women, we are the life bringers. Magic beings or no, we are the ones who continue our family lines. It is up to us, within our family, to support each other, because a woman cannot deliver her bebe alone."

"This is true," Molly agreed. "Childbirth is the oldest, deepest of magics. Besides the blood magic involved, its creation at its purest, and at its most elemental, it binds us to the Earth. Once you walk through this doorway, my dearest daughter, you will be bound to the sisterhood of creators that continue our race. Men, they sow the seeds, but we are the Earth that grows and blooms and brings forth. I know it's dreadful and it hurts now, but what's happening to you is as natural as the sun rising in the morning."

Ginny rested against Hermione as she listened to Fleur and her Mother's whimsical words of comfort. Their soothing tones pressed gently across her savaged nerves and calmed her panic. She sighed as Hermione rubbed a cool flannel across her forehead.

"You know Ginny, a good friend of mine told me recently that sex is the creative force that shapes the world. That it's a gift from God to share with the one you love. And you had that with Harry. You two did this together, and you're lucky, really, to get the chance to be here. Your son is proof that it wasn't just a dream; that it's not over. So at the end of this, when all the pain ends, your Mum will hand you Harry's son, and everything will be all right in the world again." Hermione kissed Ginny's forehead, then held her hand as the pain took hold again.

/…../

_Nine months ago_

_Hermione stepped out of the kitchen at Grimauld Place, balancing tea cups and butterbeer bottles on a tray that she carried outside. The flyers had just returned from their latest mission, successful in the destruction of the Goyle estate, but all desperately windblown and motion-sick from the storm they'd been caught up in. There were no less than six people hanging upside-down in the branches of an enormous, fat oak with low-slung branches in the center of the back yard, cloaks dangling below them so that they looked like so many gigantic bats. Dean Thomas was on all fours in the grass, vomiting his last meal away, but Neville Longbottom, Seamus Finnigan, Ron Weasley, Ginny Weasley, and Harry Potter were all happily hanging and chatting from the lower branches of the tree. Up higher, slightly away from the others, Draco hung silently, rubbing his forehead with one hand as he unsnapped his cloak with the other. _

_Hermione passed tea cups and butterbeer bottles out as requested, easily reaching her friends on the lower branches. _

_"Malfoy!" she called. Silver eyes snapped open to glare at her. Hermione held up her drinks options. "Tea or butterbeer?" Malfoy smirked at her, then crooked his finger in a come-hither gesture. Hermione rolled her eyes. Malfoy had learned fairly quickly that if he wanted to engage in conversation with Hermione, that he'd better do it with as little audience as possible. He and Hermione spoke their own short-hand language of insults and threats and literary quotes that most people found either highly disturbing or highly offensive. But since both parties enjoyed the shite out of harassing each other, they'd learned to snip quietly so as to not cause an all-out brawl amongst the others, which had happened before on more than one occasion. _

_"Catch, Ferret!" she called up, and levitated the tray up into the branches, then when she felt Draco's wand take the upward motion of the tray away from hers, she concentrated on climbing the branches until she rested against the trunk ten feet above the ground, with her legs balanced around the branch Malfoy hung off of. _

_"Much obliged, Granger, for the tea. And I truly appreciate the opportunity to observe you take on the role of a house-elf. Really, all we need to do is remove that mop of hair of yours and get you a nice tea towel to wear, and Kreacher'd be out of a job." Draco rolled upwards and handed Hermione the drinks tray, then relaxed back downwards to drink his tea upside-down. _

_"Piss off, Malfoy," Hermione said cheerfully, then picked up a butterbeer bottle and toasted him. "Have I mentioned how much you remind me of an albino Batman right now?"_

_"Funny, Granger. But if I'm an albino Batman, what does that leave the rest of them? I don't recall you mentioning superheroes called Wonder Weasel and the Amazing Flying Potty." _

_Hermione almost spat butterbeer and toppled out of the tree from laughing so hard, but managed to contain herself at the last second. _

_"All right up there, 'Mione?" Ginny called. She and Harry, upside down on the lowest branch, were holding hands and swaying back and forth like children. _

_"Yes! Just fine, thanks!" Hermione called down. She stuck her tongue out at Malfoy, who chuckled as he leaned back up to hand her his empty mug. Hermione gingerly accepted the mug and placed it back on the tray, then gasped and flung her butterbeer bottle away from her hand so she could grasp the thick branch she'd been perched on. The entire tree had just given a mighty shiver as Harry and Ginny had simultaneously twisted and launched themselves out of the branches to the ground below. _

_Hermione shook her head in exasperation as a laughing Harry grabbed Ginny around her midsection and tossed his giggling girlfriend over one shoulder. He bolted into the house as his companions whistled and cat-called from the branches of the tree. _

_Draco closely watched his commanding officer and co-flyer as they made for the back door of Grimauld Place. "You know, Granger, your pal Potter's a pretty stressed out bloke. Has he talked to you about timelines lately? Does he know how much longer until, well, you know, the final death match with ol' snake eyes?"_

_Hermione's eyebrow went up as she appraised the young man she shared a tree branch with. "Getting tired, Malfoy? Too worn out to keep up the good fight?" _

_Draco snorted. "Hardly. I think it's safe to say I have enough normal teenage angst to carry me through for at least a few more months, and that's not counting my phenomenally shitty childhood. That rage should carry me through at least another year or so of hand-to-hand combat and wanton slaughter of our foes."_

_Hermione chuckled. "Good enough for me. What's on your mind then? Harry hasn't mentioned a lot, but judging by my research I think we'll be gearing up to finish this in the next few weeks."_

_Draco nodded his head. "Good to know. I think your boy Potter is ready for a break. You know I found him in the library the other night, doing a little research of his own. On virility spells. Guess the stress has gotten him a little, down, eh?" Draco quipped, then waved his hand expansively towards the house. "And it appears he found a spell to work for him, as he just carted off the Weaselette like a man heading for his honeymoon."_

_Hermione gagged a little, then shook her head. "Gods Malfoy, why did you feel the need to share that with me? Harry's like a brother to me, and I do not want to know about the status of his… er… extra-curricular activities with Ginny."_

_"Oh for fucks sake, Granger, set your virgin sensibilities aside and think for a minute. Why would an eighteen year old man need a virility spell if not because he was either badly injured or horribly stressed? I should know, eh? It takes an unbelievable amount of stress to kill the sex drive of a healthy teenaged male."_

_Hermione tilted her head to the side as she looked closely at Draco, who was massaging his temples. "You know, Malfoy, in a round about way you actually just expressed concern for Harry. I'm really touched."_

_"Piss off, Granger," Malfoy sighed. _

_"So he was really looking at a virility spell? I guess that is rather serious, but I didn't think his stress level seemed any greater than at any other time during the war. I guess I could ask Ronald…"_

_"Ugh, please don't mention me in that conversation, Granger. I don't want to have to justify why you and I are discussing Potter's sex drive to your spotted lap dog."_

_"Oh, come off it, Malfoy. Ron's not that bad. And if Harry was feeling, um, out of sorts, he may have confided in Ron."_

_"Look, the only reason why I even said anything at all is because I was wondering if anything extra is going on. I really don't want to know the end result of your quest to find out the status of Potter's dick." The both of them flinched at Draco's crass statement, and Hermione held her hands out to defray any further vulgarity. _

_"Got it Malfoy, please, ugh. But look, are you sure he was looking up a virility spell? I mean, could you have just caught him with that particular page open?" _

_"Well, Granger, he'd been studying that particular open page for about fifteen minutes before I happened to walk by to see what he was studying so intently. Potter's not usually one I see rolling up his sleeves in the stacks, you know? So, he was either studying the virility spell on one side of the page, or the fertility spell on the other. And honestly, what eighteen year old male wants to learn a fertility spell? It has to be the virility spell. That's why I was wondering if something-" _

_"'Mione! When the hell are you coming down from there? Come on, let's go get something to eat, I'm starving!" Ron shouted from the base of the tree, where he, Neville, and Seamus were standing next to a recovered Dean. _

/…../

Hermione knelt behind her friend and held her in her arms as Ginny strained to bring her son into the world. As Ginny panted and panicked, a huffing whisper crept its way into her exhalations. As her energy flagged and her pain increased, the huffs grew louder, until it went from a whispered mantra to a wailing scream that the men clearly heard and understood on the other side of the flat.

"Haaarry! Harry! Harry, Haaaa-rrrryyy!" Ginny sobbed as her defeated body struggled against the pain.

"Ginevra, sweetheart, please stop fighting him. You have to move with Jamie now. Feel your body and push when he does. Hermione, dear, move your legs under Ginny and lift her up. We don't need gravity to work against us now, do we?" Molly cooed and cajoled, coaxed and calmed her daughter into moving with instead of against her labor.

Soon, Fleur and Hermione were crowded on either side of the young woman, who had moved to all fours as she howled through her contractions. They took turns rubbing Ginny's neck and lower back, supporting the girl's weight so she focus on pushing.

"Ginny, Ginny, come on now. Move with the baby. It's okay, it's almost over," Hermione sang against the side of her friend's head as Ginny cried.

"Come now, Ginevra, one BIG push. Good girl! Good girl!" Fleur chanted as she wiped the sweat away from Ginny's forehead.

"Come on Ginny dear, there! THERE! Good girl!" Molly cried, as Ginny bellowed and delivered her son into the world.

A few moments of frenzied activity got Ginny cleaned and comfortably settled into the bed, pleasantly doped up with a pain-blocking charm now that Jamie was separated from her body. Molly and Fleur cleaned up the baby and crowed delightedly at his perfection, then quickly gave him to his Mother so she could meet him.

Ginny and Hermione marveled at the baby that Molly presented to her daughter. His face was bright red and wrinkled, his abundant black hair stood on end, and his blue eyes were wide open as if he were shocked to be in this new situation. Jamie blinked, and Ginny blinked, and then she burst into tears as she nestled him to her breast and sobbed in relief.

"He's… perfect!" Ginny gasped. "He's so beautiful! I was so worried there'd be something wrong with him, because of the magic, you know?"

"No, he's absolutely perfect darling. Ten fingers and toes, good heart and lungs, and he's just about the prettiest baby I've ever seen," Molly said as she ran a gentle finger across Jamie's cheek.

Fleur and Hermione agreed. Jamie was lovely. And healthy. And here.

Ginny held her tiny son up to her face and rubbed their noses gently together. She sighed and whispered something in Latin that drew her Mother up sharply.

"What did you say?" Molly asked.

Ginny looked puzzled and slightly embarrassed. "Nothing really, it's just something that Harry, um, used to say when we were… together. _Optime de me, Optimum vobis. _ The best of me, the best of you. I always liked the way it sounded." Ginny shrugged awkwardly, then shifted to nestle her son into her side.

"Ginevra Weasley, you mean to tell me Harry said that while you two were _intimate?" _Molly asked in a strained voice.

"Er, yes?" Ginny asked.

"Ginny, that is a fertility spell!" Fleur said in surprise. "Why in the world would Harry have used a fertility spell on a seventeen year old girl during a War?"

"Not just that!" Molly cried. "She's a Weasley! We don't mess about with fertility spells! She's lucky she didn't have triplets! Why in the world would Harry have been using a fertility spell?"

Hermione's mind popped back to her memory of Draco hanging out of an oak tree, watching Harry run with Ginny over his shoulder like a desperate man. Like a man running out of time. That had been just two weeks before the final battle that had ended the war and Harry's life.

"He knew," she said suddenly, and sadly. Three sets of eyes snapped to her face. "Harry knew, I think, that he wasn't going to come out of the last battle. We'd speculated on it over the years, that he may not make it through the fight. But when it came down to it, I think he just didn't want to leave Ginny empty-handed."

Hermione turned to face her friend, and rested a hand on Jamie's tiny back. "He knew he couldn't stay, but he didn't want to leave you alone. He wanted to give you a gift, conceived in love, that you could keep long after he was gone." Hermione's face screwed up as she fought to keep her emotions in check. Molly and Fleur looked to be doing the same, but Ginny gasped as her tears flowed freely onto her son's blanketed body.

"Well," Hermione croaked, "shall I go get Arthur? Start bringing your brothers in?"

Ginny nodded her head woodenly as she clutched her baby to her breast.

Hermione stood up from the bed and made for the door and announced the birth of Jamie to the assorted Weasley men and her boyfriend. Then, in the hubbub of activity, she quietly picked up her keys and jacket and exited her flat. She made her way across her storage room, down the elevator, and into her garage. Through the moonlight coming in the small windows, she could see her sedan and Draco's motorbike parked side by side. In the small space in between the two, she sat down on the hard floor and leaned her back against the cold metal door of her car. In the quiet, distant space she inhabited, far removed from the joy and celebration upstairs in her home, Hermione finally allowed herself to let go.

Eight months of repressed grief howled out of her body as she bent under the weight of the sobs that crushed her lungs and narrowed her focus to the world immediately surrounding her. Cold, harsh, quiet reality. Silent as the grave, unforgiving as a marble slab, and so, so alone.

Her best friend really had sacrificed himself like a damned farm animal. He knew, and he'd told no one. He knew, and he'd done it anyway. While she and Draco had been swinging from invisible ropes in a tower, blithely complaining about their pathetic injuries and petty squabbles, her best friend, the brother of her heart, had willingly and knowingly walked to his death and saved the whole God-damned world from a mad man.

_Optime de me, Optimum vobis. _ Well, his son would certainly be someone special, being the best of Harry Potter and the love of his very short life.

To Be Continued…

**Author's Note: Er, sorry this took so long, but I had a very hard time writing this chapter. A couple of reasons, really. Number one, it was devastatingly sad for me. I went through an unnecessary amount of tissues and mascara trying to get this right, and eventually had to give up and stop fucking with it, but writing through Hermione's and Ginny's eyes was a little on the creepy and depressing side – to the point where I was getting sick of myself. Also, not knowing how many men and/or non-mothers are reading this, I didn't want to over-do the home-birth scene, but wanted to portray the seriousness, the magic and the miracle of the birth process without it being just plain gross. **

**So, yes, Harry knocked Ginny up on purpose. That's something I've been planning from the very get-go, which is why it didn't bother me overly much that I'd killed poor Harry off – even though it hasn't been a very popular decision with some of you all. It's all about the sacrifice, people. It happens to be an underlying, constant theme for my story, and I like it. There are people and times and things we'd give anything for – to preserve, to protect… I don't think most of us ever experience anything like that, but I know without a doubt that this point is going to come up in several different ways throughout the next four and a half years. Not in such sad and angsty ways every time - I promise this story will continue to be predominantly happy and will end on a happy note.**

**Also, the Weasley's are not here to stay. They are not major players in this tale. We'll be getting back to the regularly scheduled programming soon. For those of you who (hurt my feelings) expressed a lack of interest in my muggles and great relief at the reintroduction of familiar characters and possible magic– please consider that this is a passing phase. Muggle life is coming back, since it's kind of the premise of the entire story. So, erm, I'd prefer to not get yelled at about that, if you don't mind. **

**And lastly, for those of you who are tolerating me on Twitter, HI! **

**Acro **


	26. Chapter 26 Enhancements

**Author's Note: I own no person, no place, no thing – except the plot! If you recognize it, it probably belongs to Ms. Rowling or some other awesome super-human**.

**Chapter 26 Enhancements**

Draco allowed Hermione her privacy for about two minutes before her dragged her up off the concrete and into his lap. Once he had her tucked into his arms, he settled back against the car and waited for her sobs to subside. Eventually they did, and Draco felt Hermione relax her head against his shoulder at the same time her arms snaked around his chest.

He sighed and kissed the top of her hair. "Stressful day, hmmm?"

Hermione gave a very unladylike snort.

"Rough day," Draco amended.

Hermione snorted again.

"But in the end, Girl, a good day, don't you think?"

Hermione shuddered, and sighed, then lifted her head to meet Draco's gaze. "What are we going to do, Draco? Everything's going to change now. Not just because of Ginny and Jamie, that part will be wonderful. I mean with the rest of them, you know? Our secret's out. What do we do now? We've got so many enemies, and we're so vulnerable. We're not safe-" Hermione was cut off by Draco's lips on hers. She sighed against his warm mouth and brought her hands up so that she could curl her fingers into the hair on the back of his neck.

Draco released her mouth and smirked down at her. "Not to worry my dearest. While you and the ladies spent the afternoon defiling the sanctity of our bed – Ginny can have it by the way, there is no way on God's Earth I will ever be able to sleep on that mattress again - the Weasley men and I came up with a fairly comprehensive list of wards we – or they, rather – are going to cast over our property this evening. As a matter of fact, here they come now." Draco and Hermione turned to the sound of the elevator descending to open and unload Arthur and four of his sons into the garage.

Draco nudged Hermione into standing, then they walked over to greet Arthur and the brothers. Hermione walked straight into Arthur's open arms and hugged him tightly as the brothers and Draco strolled over towards the garage door to start coordinating the Weasley's positions for the casting.

Well, until Bill Weasley saw Draco's Yamaha.

While Arthur enjoyed his reunion with his long missing surrogate daughter, Draco introduced the Weasley brothers to his motorbike.

"It's like some kind of cousin to Sirius's old flying motorbike, yeh?" Fred asked.

"That rusted out old rattle-trap in Dad's shed? It looks nothing like this gorgeous thing," Bill said as he ran a hand lovingly across the sleek black exterior. Draco raised an eyebrow in bemusement. Apparently he'd come upon a kindred spirit in Bill Weasley.

"You do understand this doesn't actually fly, right?" George asked his eldest brother.

Draco scoffed. "Doesn't need to, mate. Goes pretty fucking fast on the ground. Scares the shite out of me sometimes, but it beats the hell out of not being able to fly at all."

Bill nodded eagerly. "How fast does it go, do you reckon? Like, Nimbus fast?"

While the boys discussed the finer points of land versus air speed for pleasure and sport purposes, Arthur smiled down broadly at Hermione and chucked her on the chin.

"No more crying now, Hermione. There's absolutely nothing to forgive. You know very well that Molly and I are just thrilled to see you well and healthy and happy. And you should know, I never thought you and Ron made a proper match. Too close, and too different you two were. And while he's having a rough time now, I don't think having you around would have made it better-"

"That can't possibly be legal!" Percy's shocked and indignant voice carried across the room, along with Draco's bark of amused laughter.

Hermione and Arthur looked over at the boys, and Arthur took note of the way Hermione's eyes focused on the Malfoy heir.

"You know, it seems to me you've met your match out here, Hermione," Arthur said kindly.

Hermione looked up quickly at Arthur, and then blushed and bobbed her head quickly. "Oh, er, yes. Draco and I, we're just about perfect for each other, really. And while I wasn't expecting to meet him out here, it's been the best thing for me. I really am sorry I left the way I did Arthur. I didn't want to hurt anyone, especially Ron. I just had to go. My parents, they're not in the best shape, you know?" Hermione said.

"Yes, Draco told us everything, I expect. Really, Hermione, you don't need to explain anything. Now, what are those boys looking at? I say, is that a motorbike?"

Hermione laughed in relief and allowed herself to be bodily led to Draco's Yamaha, where he was happily instructing a fascinated Bill in the finer points of two-wheeled Muggle transportation.

/…../

As the Weasley men prepared themselves and the building for the casting of the wards, Hermione and Draco sat with Ginny for a few moments so that Molly and Fleur could pop back to the Burrow and gather supplies for the baby and Ginny, as well as enough food to tide over the Weasley clan for the evening.

While Draco and Ginny spent a few minutes hammering out the massively entangled logistics of a home purchase -

"Do you want it?"

"Mmhmm."

"Right then, we'll buy it on Monday."

– Hermione held her godson and marveled at his tiny perfection.

"Look at that hair! Oh my goodness there's so much of it!" Hermione crooned as she stroked a sleeping Jamie's tiny scalp. His hair stood on end, black as night, and painfully like his father's had been, but in this sweetest of moments, Hermione couldn't help but be anything but blissfully happy, and painfully in love with the tiny little boy in her arms. She tickled Jamie's round cheek and watched in wonder as his little cupid's bow mouth opened in a perfect O as he yawned and stuck out his little tongue. Hermione giggled and kissed Jamie's forehead.

"Well at least he doesn't have that wonky scar. Even with that mad hair, he'll still manage to be inconspicuous amongst us Muggles," Draco said cheerfully. Ginny made an obscene gesture in his general direction.

"You know, Draco, you're one to talk. Don't you have a great, fat X-mark like a treasure map on the side of your forehead?" Hermione said in a sing-song voice. Draco copied Ginny's obscene gesture in the general direction of his smitten girlfriend, but smiled at Ginny as she chuckled.

Draco checked the time on his mobile, then re-pocketed it. He stood and said, "I'm going to go back outside to see if I can help out. Any requests before I go?" Both girls shook their heads, and Draco left the room to head up to the roof to help set up the casting of the wards as well as for Fred and George's midnight celebration of the birth of Harry and Ginny's son.

Once Draco had left the room, Hermione stood and made her way to the bed. "How are you?" she asked quietly as she lowered herself into the space next to Ginny and tucked Jamie into his Mother's arms so that they could both adore him.

"Little woozy. Sore. Feel like I got run over by a herd of angry centaurs, really. Glad it's over. Glad he's okay. Wish I could join you all up top, but…" here Ginny yawned hugely, "I really am knackered. Not really any way you could convince me to get out of this bed right now, really…" she sighed.

Hermione leaned in and kissed Ginny on the forehead. "I'm glad you're here. I'm glad you're okay. Thank you for finding me, Gin. I love you. Now, get some rest. I have to go help your brothers, but your Mum will be back in just a few minutes." Then she leaned down and kissed Jamie's sleeping sweetness once more, and tucked the two under an extra quilt before turning down the light and leaving the room.

/…../

Hermione and Draco stood outside their building as ten in the evening approached. Arthur, Percy, Fred and George each stood at a corner of their building, and Bill took position at the center of their roof. Each Weasley clutched a length of paper with a list of incantations they would be simultaneously casting, but first Hermione and Draco had the gruesome but necessary task of bleeding of each of the four corners of their building.

"Ugh, I'm so tired of blood," Hermione groaned as Draco dragged the knife across her fingertip.

"Quit whining and act grateful, Love. I for one will gladly offer a gallon if it means we won't have any surprise visitors, or have to move anytime soon. I like the Fortress," Draco said as he repeated the cut on his own fingertip. They patted Arthur on the shoulder as they moved on to the next corner where Percy stood, and repeated the cuts into fresh fingertips.

"YOU LOT READY?" Bill's amplified voice shouted down from the roof.

Hermione jumped half a meter in the air, and Draco steadied her with a laugh. "Jumpy much, Little Girl?"

"Cripes," Hermione groused, "I'd forgotten how bloody loud that charm was. Do you think we're attracting attention like this?"

Draco shrugged as they approached Fred. Hermione swabbed their bloody fingertips so they could squeeze out some fresh drops, then they walked towards their final corner where George stood.

"Granted, I hope no one is observing us now. It's been so long since I've really thought about it, but seeing the Weasley's in their cloaks and waving their wands around, well. They look like a bunch of nutters, don't they?" Draco asked.

"Oi!" George cried indignantly. "I heard that!"

"I did too, Malfoy, and I highly resent that statement! I look bloody fantastic," Fred declared.

"Yes you do, brother mine," George agreed. "And as I was always the more handsome of the two of us, I look even more amazing. So piss off, young Malfoy, or we'll leave a hippogriff in your garage."

Draco offered an obscene hand gesture to each twin, then squeezed some blood over Hermione's donation to seal their contribution to the spell.

George tapped his throat with his wand, so Draco and Hermione clapped their hands over their ears as he bellowed, "READY BELOW!"

"ALL RIGHT!" Bill called. "IT'S PROBABLY BEST TO DO THIS AS A CHANT OR A SONG, SO…"

"NOT A PROBLEM, BILL!" Fred cut in. "WEASLEY'S, TO THE TUNE OF THE HOGWARTS SCHOOL SONG ON THE COUNT OF THREE, TWO, ONE…"

Hermione and Draco groaned. A funeral dirge paced chant came from Fred and George, whom they were closest to. Hopefully that was how all Weasley's sang the Hogwarts School Song, but even so-

"We're going to be out here all bloody night waiting for them to finish this," Draco said, then tugged Hermione down to sit next to him on the sidewalk against the building facing their own.

"Sooo, how are you, really?" Draco asked quietly as he bandaged the tips of Hermione's cut fingers.

Hermione shrugged. "I don't know, really. A little shattered, I guess. I mean, I just saw an old friend of mine whom I didn't even know was pregnant give birth naturally on our bed. Ugh. I have to tell you Draco, as a woman, that was hard to watch. I am seriously reconsidering ever having children after that one. And now I'm watching a pack of wizards who used to be as close as family to me spouting off magic spells that you and I should be able to see, but can't. Seriously, spells this elaborate, and using our blood no less, should be covering the sky and practically wrapping us in light. But to us, there's nothing. It's completely surreal, you know?"

Draco nodded and kissed her bandaged fingertips, then unceremoniously shoved his own bloodied fingertips and two clean bandages into Hermione's face. Hermione rolled her eyes. As she cleaned and bandaged Draco's fingers, he looked at her drawn, tired face.

"I suppose it is rather surreal, but I can't imagine it's bad. After all, we'll be more secure now, even though more people do know where we are. And as much as I hate to admit it, I think you'll be happier with the Weasley's in your life. I love you, Hermione, and I'd be perfectly content to live with just you and the puppies forever, but I'm not foolish enough to think that you're the same kind of person that I am. We'll adapt, and we'll be fine, yeh?"

Hermione nodded as she finished with his fingers, then settled her head against Draco's shoulder as they waited out the lengthy incantations of the Weasley clan.

"And Little Girl, as far as the childbirth thing goes," Draco said. Hermione pulled her head up off of Draco's shoulder to look at him.

"What about it?" she asked.

"Please, for the sake of my sanity, never tell me any details about it. I'd actually like to have children one day, and after listening to that much screaming and profanity come out of such a small woman, I'm not altogether sure I'm comfortable with the idea of putting you through that."

Hermione smiled slowly and broadly as she took in Draco's words. In a teasing voice she said, "Been thinking about engaging in experimental breeding with me, Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco flushed. "No! Not… not right now, I mean. Later, maybe, if I decide you're worthy of bestowing my magnificent surname upon," he tried to say flippantly, but his wide black eyes gave him away.

Hermione's smile grew. "You mean to tell me you haven't decided yet?" she teased. For all of her light-hearted banter as she teased her boyfriend however, Hermione's heart raced. What if he asked her? They'd only been together a few months, but then again, Pureblooded wizards tended to marry early either after very short courtships or as a result of betrothal contracts. Draco's own parents couldn't have been much older than Hermione and Draco currently were when they wed via a betrothal contract. Molly and Arthur had married straight out of Hogwarts, as had Harry's parents. Perhaps Draco had thought seriously about it, after all.

"Er… um…" Draco stuttered, and swallowed convulsively. Their conversation had taken a very unexpected turn, and he had no idea what to do. The ring that he'd just picked up not three days before was upstairs buried inside one of his suit pockets. He'd been planning on waiting until they were in Italy, so he'd have the added bonus of having Hermione's mind too completely over-stimulated by her new surroundings to even consider rejecting him.

Somehow, the idea of proposing marriage to Hermione seemed so much easier in a setting like Rome or Venice in Spring. There'd be excellent wine and decadent meals and dancing under the moonlight and all that rubbish.

Instead he and Hermione were sitting in the freezing arse cold outside their building in the middle of the night, bleeding and watching a handful of ginger nutters waving what amounted to wooden twigs in the air and singing horribly off-key, really atrocious music.

But then again, it was _Hermione _sitting next to him in the freezing arse cold, with her bandaged fingers curled around his. She'd completely and without a second thought shared her home and life with him, and she honestly loved him like he was the last man on Earth. There were times when Draco swore he could feel her love for him pounding through his veins, and it was at moments like these that he knew without a sliver of a doubt that their union was not only inevitable, it was almost redundant. There was no way he'd ever be enticed to leave Hermione's side. The biggest indicator of that was how other women ceased to appeal to him. He honestly couldn't even really remember lusting after anyone the way he did for Hermione.

She was just… IT. He'd kissed her, and that was that. It had been the beginning and the end, a dividing moment in his life, and to Draco it felt as permanent and natural as breathing air.

So, yes, he had made his decision, and he was ready to ask her, technically.

Draco scowled as his throat clogged, and his face heated further. He looked down at the pavement between his feet, and waited for the tension and utter terror to dissipate before he could face Hermione again. Shite, maybe he wasn't ready.

Or maybe it was the fact that they had an audience.

Fred and George's lamentations had come to an end, and they were now grinning wickedly down at Draco and Hermione.

"Well Draco m'boy, what do you say? Is our 'Mione the one true girl for you?" George teased.

"If you want, Georgie and I could sing a loving duet in the background whilst you woo your fair maiden with silken promises and a ring of untold exquisiteness. You do have a big, fancy ring on hand, don't you?" Fred asked cheerfully.

Hermione jumped up in embarrassment and started pummeling the twins with her hat, and Draco took the fleeting opportunity to drop his face into his hands and try to collect his horribly muddled thoughts. He could hear her laughter as she chased the twins down the sidewalk towards their front doorway. For the moment, he was completely alone.

Draco blew out a frustrated breath.

"Bugger," he muttered. "That was fucking horrible."

"Oh, come on now, it wasn't that bad, was it?" Hermione's voice asked from right in front of him. Draco jerked his head up, and there she was, slightly breathless and definitely tired, but beautiful as ever. He closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the brickwork of the building behind him.

"Damn it, Girl," he groaned. "I can't do this tonight. It's too late, I'm too tired, and too much has happened already today. Please, can we just forget this conversation ever happened?"

Hermione's heart dropped into her stomach. She knew Draco was right, and she knew he was beyond nervous at the rapid and unusual twist their innocent conversation had taken. But even so, she couldn't help but be hurt. Fucking horrible, he'd said. That wasn't what she'd wanted to hear, and she had a feeling she'd never be able to forget that he'd said it, whether he meant for her to hear it or not.

Regardless, she tucked her hurt to the side, and Hermione plastered what she hoped was a calm and gentle smile on her face. She reached her hand out to help Draco up off the cold ground.

"I think you're right," she said. "We're tired, it's late, and today has been a very big day. So stop worrying, Draco. No more emotional relationship crap, all right?" She looked up into his ravaged face. He looked so damned miserable that Hermione ached to ease his discomfort. So she wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged herself to him. As Draco snaked his arms around her back, she whispered, "It's fine, it's fine. We're fine. Don't worry about it, really."

Draco let out an exhausted sigh, and rested his head against the top of Hermione's.

"I need a drink," he said.

Hermione laughed. "That was rather anti-climactic, don't you think?"

Draco shook his head, scrubbing his stubble across the top of her scalp in the process. Hermione giggled and squirmed, but he tightened his arms around her and scrubbed his way down the side of her head until he reached her cheek, then he turned his face and planted a sloppy wet kiss on her lips.

"You know what we need?" Hermione said once Draco had pulled back and turned their bodies to walk towards their building entrance.

"A cataclysmically earth-shattering shag? I couldn't agree more," Draco quipped. "But there's an issue with the accommodations in our flat, so I'll have to just service you against the wall in the stairwell."

Hermione pulled her key ring out of her jacket pocket and unlocked the front door.

"Well," she said, "I was going to say a vacation. But your idea works rather well too." And with that, she dragged him inside and pushed the door shut.

Ten fast and frantic minutes later, a very thoroughly mussed Hermione smiled at her stunned and over-stimulated boyfriend.

"Feel better?" she asked coyly. Draco nodded dumbly.

"Ready to go join the others and celebrate?" Hermione queried further as she pulled her clothing back together and tried to finger comb her way through her wayward hair. Draco nodded again, and picked himself up from where he'd sagged to the floor in post-crazy-amazing-orgasm euphoria. As his brain started to churn back into action again, he picked up their previous conversation thread.

"Hermione?"

"Hmm?"

"You mentioned wanting a vacation. Why don't we start planning our Italy trip? We'll help get Ginny and Jamie settled and go once the weather starts to turn. Maybe two months from now?" Draco said as he plucked Hermione's key ring from the floor to unlock the second door.

"Oooh, good idea! In all the excitement of the day I hadn't even thought of Italy, but you're absolutely right!" Hermione clapped her hands and jumped up and down as Draco opened the door to the stairs.

Draco breathed a sigh of relief. That gave him two months to prepare a fucking speech, or whatever it was he had to do, to get his mouth and brain to agree to communicate those all important words. For fucks sake, there was no way in hell he could go through the train-wreck of a proposal he'd narrowly avoided outside a second time.

Ring? Check.

Italy? Working on it, but, essentially, check.

Bollocks? Damn it.

/…../

Fred and George had encouraged Hermione and Draco to round up a few bottles of champagne from their extensive wine collection, and everyone met on the rooftop to celebrate the birth of Harry and Ginny's son. While Ginny and Jamie slumbered in Hermione and Draco's room, Molly and Arthur Transfigured some bits of roofing detritus into comfortable chairs and tables as Fred and George Apparated back to their shop on Diagon Alley to gather some supplies.

"What sort of supplies?" Molly asked sharply.

"Nothing outrageous Mum, just some fireworks," George said innocently.

Fred nodded solemnly and added, "We can't get into anything too wild, being in the middle of a Muggle town and all. That would be irresponsible of us."

"Not to mention illegal," Percy commented as he extracted his wand from his robes. "And now, if you all don't mind, I'll be popping over to get Penelope and the Minister and be back in a few moments." With a sweeping crack, Percy disappeared, leaving Hermione and Draco frowning in his wake.

"He's bringing more people here?" Hermione asked.

"Oh, well, yes dear. You remember Penelope Clearwater, don't you? She's his fiancé now, so naturally she knew of Ginny's situation. And of course Kingsley will want to be here to celebrate with us. He was with us last time you know, goodness, how long ago was that, Arthur?"

"Eighteen years ago, plus a few months I suppose," Arthur said as he helped Bill and Fleur string fairy lights along the edges of the open area of the roof top.

Draco's hand squeezed Hermione's in nervous agitation. "I promise, Love, the only people that can Apparate in independently through the wards now are the Weasley's and Mafalda. No matter what madness these lot bring through tonight, no one can find their way back without us entirely re-casting the wards to include them specifically."

Hermione nodded apprehensively, then squawked as Bill popped the top of the first champagne bottle. Draco chuckled and pulled his nervous girlfriend into his arms.

Several glasses and toasts later, Draco and Hermione were pleasantly bubbly and cuddled up together on a chaise lounge as midnight approached and the cracks of Apparition indicated incoming Weasley's and their guests.

George and Fred, as well as George's girlfriend Angelina Johnson, appeared with bags of what looked like fairly harmless Muggle fireworks in their arms.

Percy returned almost immediately after them with his fiance' Penelope, as well as with the imposing but familiar figure of Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"Kingsley!" Hermione cried, and extracted herself from Draco's sleepy embrace to duck into the Minister of Magic's welcoming hug.

"Hello, dearest Hermione. Look at how well you are!" Kingsley said in his deep, booming voice as he pulled back from their hug to inspect Hermione's flushed countenance.

"It's good to see you Kingsley, and you look good as well! How are things?" Hermione asked happily, the champagne having done its part to loosen her tongue and lighten her mood.

"I am well, I am well, my girl. Mafalda has been keeping me abreast as to you and Mr. Malfoy, and she says that you two have been very good for each other out here. That warms my heart to hear, Hermione. How are your parents?" Kingsley asked.

"Oh, well, they're much the same as when I last saw you. They don't remember much of anything on either side of the mess I've made of their memories, so we're just trying to build from the point that I brought them back. It's better though, with Draco around. They rather like him, I think," Hermione said as she tugged the Minister over to where her boyfriend was still reclined. He had his eyes closed, and looked to be imminently close to sleep.

"Draco, wake up! The Minister's here," Hermione called.

Draco's eyes snapped open. Seeing who was standing in front of him, he hurriedly stood and accepted the offered handshake from the Minister.

"It's good to see you Minister," Draco said formally. "Welcome to our home, or well, the roof of our home, as it were."

Kingsley smiled at the young Muggle man before him. "Thank you, Mr. Malfoy. And now, I wonder, if I could bother you to speak with me in private? I am so sorry dear Hermione, I will not keep him but for a moment." And with that, Kingsley pulled Draco gently by the arm to a far corner of the roof, away from the laughter and noise of the others.

Hermione cocked her head to the side as she watched Draco's face turn ashen, then shocked, then she saw a flash of rage cross his face as he turned away from the light. Whatever it was the Minister was telling him, it certainly wasn't good news.

"Is this something you are interested in pursuing, Mr. Malfoy?" Kingsley asked carefully.

"Fuck no!" Draco snapped. "I'm a free man, and I'll be damned if I'm going to allow my life to be dictated by some cocked up bullshit my father put together before I was old enough to read! Tell them whatever you want, that I died, or that I'm gay, or that I'm happily living with a tribe of Eskimos in the Arctic. I don't care, anything! Just keep them the fuck away from me. I haven't even told Hermione about this yet, and I honestly didn't want to! I don't want her to feel pressured… Damn it!" Draco cried and leaned against the roof's edge to look over the side.

"I'm going to ask Hermione, Minister. I swear, it has nothing to do with the Greengrass contract. Just give me a year at least, to get things irrevocably settled with Hermione, please," Draco whispered harshly into the night.

The Minister nodded. "I think I can manage that Draco. You seem very sincere about Ms. Granger. And from Arabella and Mafalda's reports, which I have read of course, you are doing very good here. I do not want to disrupt that. Your rehabilitation is going remarkably well. I will put the Greengrass family off for the next year, at least until your twenty-first birthday. That is exactly eighteen months from now. Do you think you can irrevocably settle things with Hermione by then?" Kingsley asked with a bit of humor in his voice.

Draco turned his head and looked sharply at the Minister. "Honestly, Shackebolt, I almost asked her tonight. I just… well, I just need time. But yes, by my twenty-first birthday should be plenty of time. Thank you."

As the two shook hands, the first of Fred and George's Muggle fireworks burst up from the rooftop and into the night. There was so much to plan, so much to do. Draco and Hermione, Ginny and Jamie, Kingsley and Mafalda, even Fred and George, all had hopes and dreams and worries and enormous obstacles that needed to be tended to in very short order. But for the rest of the evening, no one worried about the future. A time of celebration had begun in earnest. Not since the night that a tiny Harry Potter had lived to vanquish the Dark Lord Voldemort had such a celebration taken place. There was music, and light, and laughter, and even some dancing as the rooftop attendants rejoiced in the birth of Harry Potter's only son.

Red and gold, green and silver, even a lurid purple and orange combination, all burst up and into the night, showering Hermione, Draco and their assortment of guests with sparkling color.

To Be Continued.


	27. Chapter 27 In Absentia

Author's Note: I own no person, no place, no thing – except the plot! If you recognize it, it probably belongs to Ms. Rowling or some other awesome super-human.

**P.S. Thank you to the wonderful Phnxgirl for offering to beta-read for me! Without her help I would have posted a much more awkward and confusing version of this chapter!**

Chapter 27 In Absentia

To say that Draco Malfoy was jealous would be an understatement. To say that he was aware that his jealousy was misplaced would also be an understatement. It was difficult to be angry with a toothless, incontinent, squashed up little squick of a man like Jamie Weasley, but Draco was still rather miffed that he'd been obviously replaced in Hermione's heart by the little interloper.

Two weeks had passed since Kingsley and Percy had asked Draco and Hermione to witness and sign Jamie's Wizarding birth certificate as well as his Muggle one. It had indeed been Kingsley's main purpose in making an appearance at Draco and Hermione's rooftop celebration, to ensure that the legitimizing documentation could be created and immediately secreted away from the eyes of anyone inside the Ministry. Jamie Weasley's true identity would be filed away in Kingsley's own personal file drawers: a secure place if ever there was one within the Ministry.

Just under two weeks had passed since Draco had purchased Number 4 Privet Drive and then legally signed the home over to Ginevra Weasley for the tidy sum of one Pound. Molly and Arthur had quickly moved their daughter's belongings into the home via the private Floo connection to the Burrow, and Draco had happily instructed George to dismantle and dispatch his and Hermione's bedroom set to Ginny's new master suite. Meanwhile, Hermione and Ginny had sat in various positions of cuddle-uppedness, mooning over that damnably adorable baby.

And while Draco was sure that Hermione was simply lost in a new project, and happy to be safely back in the arms of her former family, he couldn't help but feel like there was a distance between himself and his girlfriend that hadn't existed before Jamie's birth.

But it hadn't started then, had it? No, something had happened later in the evening of that ridiculously busy day, and that something was… what?

Draco was getting nervous. Had Hermione overheard his conversation with the Minister? Or did this have to do with that massively botched and messy conversation about marriage and babies that never should have happened?

Whatever it was, Draco couldn't help but narrow his eyes at the toothless wonder whenever he saw him. The little fucker seemed to be channeling his late father's ability to piss Draco off and steal Hermione's attention away from him, right from the day of his birth.

And to add true insult to injury, Draco's own puppies were fucking fascinated with the baby. They followed around anyone who held Jamie and longed for nothing more than to be in whichever room the baby was in.

Draco had been well and truly abandoned.

He stood in the backyard of Number 4 Privet Drive, trying to encourage his damned dogs to hurry the hell up and have a whiz so they could be allowed back inside. Draco sighed mournfully and leaned his back against the trunk of a largish tree that he mused absently would be good for climbing. He wondered if Potter had spent much time in the branches of the tree when he'd lived in the house.

"Fucking hell, Potter," Draco muttered as he watched his dogs stare longingly through the glass door at the women and baby in the warm kitchen. "You've been dead for nearly a year, and you've still managed to best me. Look at them. My family likes your son better than they like me."

Draco could almost swear he heard a chuckle in the cold breeze that swirled around him. He snorted at the direction his thoughts had carried him, but let his imagination go anyway.

"Feels like old times, doesn't it, Potter? You the center of attention, and me shuffled off to the side and all alone. I suppose it's not so bad, really. I mean your son shites himself on a regular basis, and spends most of his time drooling onto his fist. And I'm sure Hermione will eventually get tired of the lack of intellectual stimulation and come crawling back to me, but still, the irony does not escape me. And don't worry, I'll keep an eye on them all. More than an eye, I'm sure, since it's clear that Hermione plans on spending a majority of her free time here for the time being. Honestly, Potter, you have to admit that you could do worse than me as a Godfather for the boy."

An owl flew overhead, in the direction of Arabella's house. Draco wondered if it was the messenger kind, or an ordinary owl. He wasn't sure if his Muggle eyes could even tell the difference. In all the months that he'd been in Little Whinging, his magical life had not intersected with his Muggle life outside of the sporadic appearances of the still-absent Mafalda. But now that the Weasley's had descended on Little Whinging, Draco was suddenly being forced to think about things he'd finally managed to set aside for the sake of his sanity.

How had Hermione and Potter done it? The logistics of magic versus science were rather staggering once Draco put his rational mind to it. When it came down to it, magic just didn't make any fucking _sense_. Straddling the two worlds, and watching the two interact with each other, was dizzying and disorienting.

Draco rubbed his forehead. "Shite, Potter, I don't know why she named me his Godfather, but I can see that he's going to need me. This is a tough road, juggling both worlds. Not one of the Weasley's is strong enough to hack it, outside of Ginny, and maybe Fred. But I can't see him being able to leave George or their shop, so I guess you're stuck with me. I hope you're enjoying the irony of this situation as much as I am. I, Draco Malfoy, have been charged with educating your son to be a good wizard and a good Muggle." Draco chuckled to himself at that and shook his head.

"Ah, don't worry though, mate. I won't neglect the task. I think if there is one thing that you and I have learned in our twisted lives together, it's that ignorance and miscommunication make it hard for one to make wise decisions-"

"Who are you talking to, Draco?"

Draco's head snapped up. He hadn't noticed the glass door opening to let Artemis and Apollo inside. Hermione stood, silhouetted by the ambient light from the kitchen, and looked at him questioningly. He felt his heart shrivel a little, not out of fear of getting caught speaking to his girlfriend's dead best friend, but because Hermione was looking at him more closely than she had in days, and he fucking _missed _her.

"Er…um…" Draco began, and flushed.

His embarrassment gave way to horror when Hermione's face closed off, and she whispered a quick "nevermind", before quickly pulling back inside the house and shutting the glass door.

"Bollocks," Draco groaned and banged the back of his head against the tree's trunk. "Potter, I swear, I had no problems with Hermione until your son showed up. If you don't give me a hand here, I swear to Merlin and God and wee little baby Jesus Himself that I will raise your son to be the smarmiest little git in all of Britain."

/…../

Hermione Granger was a woman in love. Jamie's tiny and velvety soft sweetness overwhelmed her senses and sent her ovaries into a frenzy of want.

Hermione wanted.

And the basis of that want led her directly in the direction of her rather confused and confusing boyfriend, Draco Malfoy.

He was acting rather oddly lately.

Hermione had tried to push their wretched conversation after the ward-casting to the back of her mind, but the way she'd overheard Draco muttering "fucking horrible" kept replaying over and over in her mind, and it was starting to eat away at her self-confidence. She knew, KNEW, in her heart of hearts, that as a self-respecting independent female of the twenty-first century, she should not be doubting her self-worth based on her nineteen year-old boyfriend's inability to declare his intention to wed her when she basically asked him to do so out of the frigging blue. In retrospect, it had been one of the most embarrassing moments of her life as a woman.

And within that revelation, Hermione felt like she'd just ruined their easy relationship.

The more Hermione hyped up the conversation in her mind, the more she realized she'd essentially begged Draco Malfoy, formerly the most desirable male in their school and certainly the most eligible wizard in all of Europe – minus the effects of the War – to propose to her. Not just to propose, but to have children with her!

It was quite easy to devote her attention to settling Jamie and Ginny into Number 4 Privet Drive instead of towards her floundering self-confidence concerning Draco.

Wallpaper and paint samples, nappies and singlets, long afternoons spent planning the upcoming Spring garden and longer evenings spent reminiscing over the contents of various boxes from Hermione's storage room helped to keep Hermione from devoting too much time to her rising panic, but eventually, she knew she'd have to address the problem. For now, she cherished the incredibly special and singular moments of Jamie's early baby days.

"Do you think he'll have Harry's eyes or yours?" she asked Ginny late one evening that she'd arranged to sleep over. Molly, Fleur, Angelina, Penelope and Hermione had arranged a rotating schedule so that Ginny wouldn't spend any nights alone for the first two months. She and Ginny used these sleepover nights as a balm to talk about Harry mostly, in ways they couldn't with other members of their families.

"Dunno yet. Maybe somewhere in between? Can you find that photo album of his Mum's again? I want to take a closer look at his eyes when he was a baby to see what they looked like," Ginny said as she switched Jamie from one breast to another. The baby was, if anything, a good eater. From the very first day, Ginny hadn't had a problem getting Jamie accustomed to breast-feeding.

As Hermione dashed down the stairs to retrieve the album Ginny wanted, she felt her mobile ping from within her back pocket.

_To: bibliophile2_

_From: bibliophile1_

_Subject: When?_

_Are you and the dogs ever coming home? I'm starting to feel like I live here by myself, Girl. _

_DAM_

Hermione sighed and chewed on her lip as she contemplated how to answer Draco. In the nearly three weeks that had passed since Jamie's birth and their horrid conversation outside, she'd, admittedly, been spending more time at Ginny's than at home. Hermione knew she needed to go home, she knew she was neglecting her boyfriend, but she just couldn't figure out how to face him!

_To: bibliophile1_

_From: bibliophile2_

_Re: Subject: When?_

_Sorry! We were home earlier today and yesterday too, but we left before you got home from the Library. I've got to stay tonight because it's my turn, but we'll be home tomorrow evening for sure. I'm really sorry Draco, I'm not meaning to keep the puppies from you, it's just so convenient to be able to keep them with me wherever I go, especially since the yard is fenced in here. Honestly, potty-training has become a non-issue when all I have to do is open a door every so often. I don't know what I was thinking, bringing two puppies into a flat to live! _

_LG _

Hermione sent the message she'd haphazardly typed up, then she rummaged through the boxes of Harry's belongings until she found the wizarding photo album Ginny'd requested. She dashed back up the stairs to ooh and aah over Jamie's resemblance to his father. Her message to Draco, along with the veiled implication and insult to him, never crossed her mind again.

But it came across to Draco loud and clear, like a blow straight to his heart. Hermoine regretted bringing Artemis and Apollo into their household. She regretted sharing that level of commitment with him, after only a month.

"Right," he said. He'd been sitting on the sofa, staring into space as he waited for an answer from the woman who'd been the center of his fucking universe for the past several months, and felt as rejected as any man could feel.

Well, there was no sense in spending yet another evening moping around the Fortress, as he'd been doing for the past several since Hermione had started sleeping over at Ginny's house. Draco felt like a drink, but wasn't up for company, so he picked up a book and his keys and headed downstairs for the Italian restaurant around the corner.

One thing he'd learned from Hermione: he was perfectly capable of finding meals and entertainment all by himself by now.

/…../

"Is there anything else I can get for you, Draco?" asked the waitress as she set down a fresh glass of the house pinot noir.

"No, but thank you, Lisa" Draco responded automatically without looking up, and thumbed over a new page of the book he was reading. He'd finally gotten around to actually reading Hermione's copy of _The Song of the Dodo_, which he'd tried to distract himself with months before on that fateful day he'd first seen Hermione play her violin and heard her sing. Just thinking of that day stirred his imagination, but Draco resolutely set those thoughts to the side and pursued the intriguing new world of island biogeography.

"So where's Hermione this evening? I haven't seen her in a few weeks," the waitress asked.

Draco's bespectacled gaze lifted from the pages of the paperback book he was perusing, to view the suspiciously chatty young woman in front of him. She was a friend of Hermione's, so he couldn't dismiss her outright, but he certainly wasn't in the mood to visit – thus the very obvious book directly in front of his eyeballs. The girl was looking at him expectantly… and very oddly.

Draco closed the book and pulled his glasses from his face, then narrowed his eyes at the waitress. "Why do you ask?" he inquired levelly.

Lisa shrugged casually, and tucked a strand of wheat colored hair behind her ear that had escaped from her bun, then surprised Draco entirely when she sat down in the seat across from him.

"Oh, I got off my shift a few minutes ago, I'm just finishing up your table. But really, I was just curious. Hermione loaned me some books to read last month, and now that I've finished them, I've been keeping an eye out for her so I can return them," the waitress asked as she flipped open her notepad and jotted down Draco's bill.

Draco blinked at young woman's casual and uncomfortably familiar behavior, then reached for his billfold to get his bankcard ready. He didn't want to pursue the topic of Hermione's absence with this near stranger, no matter how good of a friend she was to his girlfriend.

"In answer to your question, Hermione is staying with a friend of hers who just had a baby," Draco said carefully, not wanting to divulge any pertinent or personal information: for example, why Hermione was staying away overnight for days at a time at a house that was a mere ten minute drive away from their own, or why she seemed to only come home when she knew Draco wouldn't be there.

"Oh, well that's awfully nice of her! You know, Draco, I have the books with me. They're just in the back. Do you mind taking them? It's probably not a terribly big deal either way, I'm just paranoid I'll lose them or something, and I know Hermione's told me they're some of her favorites…" Lisa chattered on as Draco handed her his bankcard and wished she'd hurry the fuck up and let him get on with his evening.

It was ridiculous, Draco thought to himself as he waited for the waitress to return with his card and Hermione's books. Here he was, a grown man with a dynamic, feisty, brilliant girlfriend, who was avoiding him. And he was stuck sitting around waiting to be her errand-boy.

Pick up books for her: check.

Keep her flat warm and lived in while she was off gallivanting with her friend: check.

Meet her at the church on Saturday or Sunday mornings with her violin and notes, since she seemed to prefer spending so many nights over at Ginny's: check.

Keep in touch with all of their friends since Hermione wasn't: check.

Shaun and young Renton had seen Draco on his own more times than ever in the past month, as he tried to fill the empty hours of the evenings and weekends with some kind of physical activity. Draco and Michael, their pastor, had joined the club where the other two men had memberships. The four of them made a go at trying a variety of indoor and outdoor sports. Tennis, racquetball, swimming, even basketball. There was talk of golf, and threats of rugby. It was nice to get out of the Fortress and get some sort of exercise, and it really was great to have friends like he'd never had before.

But he missed Hermione.

/…../

"Howdy there, Malfoy! Ready for our big date?"

"Howdy? Really, Renton? What the hell have you been doing this morning, watching _Toy Story_?" Draco sneered at young Renton as he clambered into his friend's sedan.

"Oi, Malfoy, was that very nearly the most awkward word to ever march past your super-stiff upper lip? Because it sure as hell sounded like it! Say it again! Haaawwwrrr-dee…"

"If you don't shut the hell up I will get out of this car at the next stop and take a cab instead," Draco grumbled, then sneezed spectacularly into a tissue.

"All right, shutting! Don't spoil my vicarious fun time, Malfoy! Oi, and keep your germs over there. You sound disgusting, and you look like hell."

"You're only spoiling it for yourself, you wanker. Look, I need some tea, I've got a splitting headache. Then we have to stop by my bank before we go to the dealership. How about… over there?" Draco pointed out a coffee shop, and soon enough he had a take-away tea in hand for himself and for young Renton, and they were driving up the motorway towards London.

Hermione was busy with Ginny and Jamie, naturally, but even so, she hadn't asked what he'd be doing today, so he didn't tell her. On this fine – well not so fine, actually it was fucking disgusting outside, drizzly, foggy and cold as hell – February morning, Draco and young Renton were riding up to the closest Porsche dealership so that Draco could do what Malfoy's did best: buy ridiculously expensive toys to occupy their time and pre-occupy their minds.

The thing was, the Porsche was actually a sound purchase, which Draco justified on several points.

Point one: Hermione had her car with her at all times, and it was too fucking cold and dangerous to drive his bike to work. Case in point: today's wretched weather.

Point two: He absolutely refused to ride public transportation anymore. It was filthy and everyone seemed to have a head cold – including himself, damn it all – and he was tired of all the hand-sanitizer and tissues he had to constantly carry on his person.

Point three: He'd wanted one for an incredibly long time, at least five or six months – practically forever. Malfoy's were notoriously rubbish at self-denial.

Point four: Technically, Hermione hadn't bought him anything for Christmas, and he hardly ever got to play with his traitorous puppies lately, so… Right. A Porsche. Happy Christmas, Draco!

Point five: He just bought Ginny Weasley a fucking HOUSE. He bloody deserved it.

Point six: Today was a special occasion, and he needed to get out of the Fortress and blow a hundred thousand Pounds so he wouldn't have to think about it. Not yet anyway.

Even though he'd planned on going at it alone, young Renton had jumped at the opportunity to spend some time with the lovely Germans. So, on a Saturday morning that no one had to be anywhere in particular, and Draco couldn't bear to look at the calendar for one more second, he'd dialed up young Renton, and they'd set off in record time.

"So, where's Hermione and the pups today? Still at the ginger-head house?" Young Renton asked lightly.

Draco snorted. "The ginger-head house? Nice one. Yeh, she's there, I guess. Honestly, I haven't checked in over there lately." He sniffed appreciatively at his tea, then wrinkled his nose to hold back another sneeze. Draco had never been so sick in his life, but according to the physician he saw yesterday afternoon, there was absolutely nothing that could be done to cure a common cold.

Young Renton nodded sympathetically. "I can totally sympathize with you, mate. Have you been to Mike and Winnie's house recently? The entire place reeks of nappies and vomit. And they're the happiest couple of zombies I've ever seen in my life. Absolutely terrifying. But Lindy just absolutely loves it over there. She goes completely barmy whenever she sees Gabe. I swear the first thing that baby does is shit his pants whenever she picks him up, because within five minutes of being around him, Lindy's got poo on her shirt and a naked baby laying on whatever horizontal surface she can find. It's bloody disgusting."

"Ahh, you're preaching to the choir, my brother. The last time I went over to see Hermione at Ginny's house, I saw Ginny's naked chest. Not something I really wanted to see, all freckled and pale and complete with a feeding infant. So I turned immediately and went outside, and Hermione followed me out. She tried to give me a hug, but she positively reeked of sour milk. So I got to thinking, how does breast milk go sour, and how did it get on my girlfriend? Ah, you see it was regurgitated breast milk that she'd simply allowed to dry on her shirt and hadn't bothered to clean off. Lovely. I nearly lost my lunch, and had to make a very hasty retreat. I haven't been back."

Young Renton shook his head and chuckled. "We've got to be the worst Godfathers ever, eh?"

Draco shrugged morosely as he rubbed at his forehead. "Possibly. You're lucky; Gabe has a Dad. You don't really need to step in and help out until he's out of nappies and ready for his first league match. With Potter gone, Ginny really does need all the help she can get. It's just… I just… Eh. I'd like our lives to go back to normal now, you know?" Draco grumbled as he pulled a tissue from his pocket to swipe at his nose. Stupid thing kept bloody leaking, and it was driving him mad.

"Mate, I'm starting to think our girls have gone over to the dark side. In my humble opinion, I think this _is_ the new normal, and we're supposed to be happily considering this Godfatherhood to be practice for when it's our turn. Have you seen _the look_ yet?"

"The look?" Draco asked.

"You know, the glassy eyed, baby-lust look that women of child-bearing age get when they hold their friend's new baby. Lindy's got it bad. We're getting a Weimaraner next week, but I'm not sure how long it's going to hold her off."

Draco shrugged, then jerked as it occurred to him what young Renton was talking about.

"For fucks sake, Renton! I'm nineteen! Hell no, Hermione isn't giving me _the look_. We're just barely adults ourselves! God, what the hell is wrong with you?" Draco snapped.

Young Renton laughed and punched Draco's shoulder. "Oi, Malfoy, I'm twenty-four, and you can't fight biology. At least I'm smart enough to acknowledge what's happening to Lindy, and prepare myself for the worst. You'd be wise to do the same. After all, how long has it been since you've actually seen _your_ Hermione? Nearly a month, right? Just like my Lindy. She's not mine anymore, she's Gabe's Lindy. And Hermione is Jamie's Hermione. They're under a spell, Malfoy, and there's nothing we can do to stop it!"

Draco groaned. "Shut the fuck up, Renton. I'm trying to hold onto my youth here, not toss it away. I'm perfectly content with the family that I have, if they'd just -"

"Leave the ginger-head house?"

"Wasn't there a fairy-tale about a witch with a ginger-bread house who lured little children–"

"That's the one, yes," Young Renton said cheerfully.

Draco chuckled humorlessly. "Renton, you have no idea how right you are."

/…../

Sadly, Draco's ability to purchase a vehicle had run exactly like Hermione's. Draco fell arse over heels for the showroom model as soon as he and young Renton strolled through the entrance of the dealership. Within moments after his arrival, he sat down with a sales agent to make the second most outrageous purchase of his life. Naturally Draco considered spontaneously purchasing a home for Ginny Weasley to be slightly more outrageous that buying himself a simple luxury car.

Slightly. Judging from the price tag, not by much, though.

Now, documentation complete, Draco and young Renton were standing awkwardly side by side waiting for the sleek black beauty to make her way out of the building. Rather, young Renton was standing awkwardly.

"For God's sake, Renton, do you need to go to the loo and take care of that?" Draco asked incredulously while very stoically looking straight ahead towards the open garage doors.

"Christ, Malfoy, you can't tell me you don't have the same problem! She's sexy as hell! There's absolutely no way you're not turned on by the sight of _that…_" Young Renton's moaning diatribe was cut off by the purring growl of the approaching black car.

"Hell no, I'm not while I'm standing next to you, you pervy little git. Now back away from my car, I don't want you defiling her," Draco hissed.

"Oh _come on_, take me for a ride, Draco…" young Renton whined as he jiggled his leg up and down.

Draco looked at his friend sharply, then narrowed his eyes. It appeared to be time to break out the heavy artillery to cure young Renton's lust-haze.

"So, Renton, seen your Dad lately?" Draco drawled, then chuckled as young Renton flinched and a look of revulsion crossed his face.

"Malfoy, you are a wanker of epic proportions. Why do you want to go bringing up such an unholy memory in the midst of this momentous occasion?" young Renton asked as he swiped his hand across his eyes as if to wipe away a disturbing image.

"What? Wasn't the last time you saw your Dad a momentous occasion? I mean, after all, it's not every day a bloke accidently walks in while his Dad's getting sucked off," Draco said cheerfully. Just as the valet parked Draco's new car in front of him, young Renton walloped him across the back of his head.

/…../

It was nearly nightfall when Draco finally made his way into the storage room. The Porsche was parked next to his Yamaha in the garage, and he'd managed to absorb himself in materialistic happiness for several hours before the glaring date on the calendar intruded into his thoughts again.

He was alone, of course. But unlike most times, he was actually grateful for the solitude at this point. He didn't really want an audience to his melancholic evening, and he wasn't sure at this point how pathetic it was actually going to be.

Draco pulled the cover off of Hermione's mother's piano. He carefully folded the white sheet and set it on top of a stack of containers, right next to the bottle of scotch and his half-empty tumbler.

It was definitely a half-empty sort of evening.

If Hermione had been there, things might have been different. If she'd left the puppies with him, things might have been different. But Draco had been alternating between wallowing in self-doubt and depression and fuming in righteous indignation for too long. He'd done everything he could, he knew that, to make Hermione happy. And if she couldn't see, or wouldn't take the time to see, that he wasn't happy… well then, nights like this were bound to be difficult.

In the time since his mother had passed away, Draco had allowed himself very little opportunity to dwell on her actual loss. The fact of the matter was, she had been separate from him for a majority of his life. It was funny though, how in the calm that had descended on him over the past six or so odd months, he was able to look back over the people and events that had shaped his nature.

Draco had been raised with what the Muggles referred to as a silver spoon in his mouth, but of course there were other, less savory details that went along with the privilege - especially for a young boy. Manicures and facials, dancing lessons and etiquette, and his mother's personal favorite: piano lessons, were all part of Draco's early childhood development as much as learning to how fly a broom and how to hate Muggles and every other living human whose status was beneath his own.

In the center of all of the awkward footsteps and stiff collars, his mother's hand had rested lightly on his shoulder, guiding him so that he could follow her lead. Where Lucius led Draco around with his wand and a raised eyebrow, Narcissa's confident yet gentle demeanor soothed Draco's childish fears and anxieties. Like a statue of an angel, she was simultaneously divinely beautiful and cold. She rarely coddled Draco, but she was his constant companion – when Father was not around. Narcissa was devoted to her husband, to be sure, but she was wholly dedicated to her role as a mother.

For all of her flaws that others may have seen, Draco loved his mother. And here on her birthday, the first of many that he would presumably experience in her absence, he had decided to do what Narcissa always so loved for him to do for her. He would play for her.

Draco didn't particularly enjoy playing the piano. It wasn't dreadful. It was rather like tying ones shoelaces, or folding trousers: it was a function that he could perform, and he could take it or leave it. He'd never mentioned to Hermione that he knew how to play, because Draco knew damned well she'd be begging him to play bloody duets with her; or even worse, she'd announce it to the entire congregation of their church and he'd be dragged onto the stage to play hymns…

Draco shuddered.

Abso-fucking-lutely not.

He tipped back the remaining contents of his tumbler, then, noting with some surprise that his glass had suddenly become empty, he set about refilling it. Mission satisfactorily accomplished, he turned back towards the piano and settled onto the bench seat. Draco was fully aware of the mass of music books Hermione kept stuffed inside the bench seat, as well as the helpful bin of books (alphabetically sorted by composer name, then within chronological order – typical Hermione) sitting on the floor next to him, but he had no need for books this evening. The music he planned to play for Mother was ingrained in his memory, as it was something she'd always liked for him to play for her. Many years of evenings and holidays had passed in that way, and it was in nights like this, where the silence wrapped around Draco and his head simultaneously ached and buzzed, that he allowed his maudlin thoughts to carry his actions.

Draco positioned his hands, and sighed. "I think," he whispered, then licked his lips. He acknowledged that he was more than a little drunk, but that would help, not hinder, his solo performance this evening. He began again.

"I think I hate this as much as anything else I've ever been forced to do in my entire life."

Draco's eyes blurred just as his fingers began to move across the keys. As the music seeped out of him, memories of his mother lapped at his nerves, stinging and stinging and stinging, until the alcohol made it all numb. And still he played.

/…../

Hermione keyed through the second door and allowed Artemis and Apollo ahead of her into the stairwell. She was truly grateful, as late as it was, that the puppies weren't the type of dogs that barked incessantly. As excited as they were to be home, she really hoped they didn't wake Draco up.

Or was he still awake? Did he have someone over? Hermione heard piano music drifting from the storage room. Who on earth did Draco have over at ten o-clock on a Saturday night, playing her mother's piano?

Hermione let the puppies into the flat, and hung her day-bag and overnight bag on the nails next to the door. Then she turned back towards the stairwell and unlocked the storage room.

He didn't even have a light on. He sat in the dark, completely alone, and played. His shoulders were slightly rounded, as if he'd been sitting there for some time and was beginning to get tired. His head was cocked to the right, as if he were listening to someone, or for someone.

"Good evening, Ms. Granger," he slurred. Hermione was surprised to hear that Draco was incredibly drunk. He turned his head back to his task as he said, "So nice of you to join me this evening."

To Be Continued.

Author's Note: I know it's been a month since I last updated, but I had this chapter 70% written and hated it, so I scrapped it and started over. I'm so much happier with the way this turned out. You know why? Because some of my previous early-planted plot bunnies are finally going to start coming into play. Yay! I'm looking forward to leading these out for you all. Thanks for hanging in and waiting, and please review and let me know how I'm doing!

acro


	28. Chapter 28 Recompense

**Author's Note: I own no person, no place, no thing – except the plot! If you recognize it, it probably belongs to Ms. Rowling or some other awesome super-human**.

**Chapter 28 Recompense**

_"Good evening, Ms. Granger," he slurred. Hermione was surprised to hear that Draco was incredibly drunk. He turned his head back to his task as he said, "So nice of you to join me this evening."_

"I didn't know you could play," Hermione blurted. It was really the only thing she could think of in this very odd and surreal moment.

"Hmmm," Draco nodded as his fingers drifted thoughtfully across the keys. "Yes, I suppose that's true. But then, my dear Ms. Granger, there are a great many things you and I do not know about each other. For example, did you know that my first episode of accidental magic occurred when I was five years old and I set my mother's piano on fire? I didn't like it, you see, and I didn't want to sit inside and take lessons whilst Father went out flying with his friends. Ahh, the trials and tribulations of early childhood…" Draco drifted off as his fingers accelerated across the keys.

Hermione cleared her throat. "Is… something the matter, Draco? You seem rather, er, melancholy."

Draco nodded sagely. "Yes, yes, I can see where you'd come to that conclusion, what with me sitting alone in the dark, playing your Mum's piano and drinking very, very fine Scotch. Good deductive reasoning, my dear Ms. Granger." He picked up the pace of his fingers even more, and the tempo of the song became scattered as his agitation and drunkenness finally bled into his hands.

Hermione paced closer to her boyfriend. "Draco?" She reached her hand out and placed it on his shoulder, but drew it back when he stiffened sharply at the contact.

"What on earth has gotten into you?" she asked.

"Hmm, you know, Ms. Granger, there's no need to be so informal. I think in a situation such as you and I have, we can call each other Ms. Granger and Mr. Malfoy, don't you think?" Draco nodded as he spoke, and his fingers tapped, staccato-style, across a series of discordant notes that sounded nothing like a song.

Hermione hissed in a shocked breath. "What?! Like hell I will! Exactly what kind of situation do you think we're in?"

Draco's fingers stopped suddenly. "No need to play coy, Ms. Granger. This situation, in which you've decided to dismantle our family and move out of our home. So, what have you come for this evening? The remainder of your clothes? The pictures off the walls? No, that can't be it, of course. You're just here for your books, am I right?"

Hermione could not have been more shocked if Draco had stood up and slapped her. She watched with wide and horrified eyes as her boyfriend suddenly turned to peer up at her. His red-rimmed and haunted eyes devastated her, but his overall expression of acceptance truly broke her heart. Draco really thought she was leaving him.

Draco was not one to take rejection well; she knew that more than anyone, and yet she'd been willfully ignoring him and avoiding him for weeks because of her own embarrassment. Hermione's heart tightened and shuddered in her chest as she felt the implications of her neglect. Draco sniffled, and blinked rapidly.

He wasn't… crying… was he?

Horrified, Hermione did the only thing she could think of. She launched herself into his arms and wrapped herself around his unsteady frame.

"Draco, for goodness sake, I'm not leaving you. Please don't cry! I'm sorry I've been gone so long, really I am. Please, Draco, I love you more than anything in the world. Don't cry!" she whispered fiercely against his neck. With her head buried against his shoulder, she didn't see him reach behind himself to the tissue box balanced on top of the piano. But she certainly heard him sneeze. Hermione lifted her head to see her boyfriend mopping at his nose and eyes.

Draco sniffed loudly, and rubbed at his forehead. "Hermione, when have you ever known me to succumb to feminine bouts of weeping? I might be completely pissed and horribly sick, but I'm not a girl," he grumbled. "Now if you don't mind, please get off of me. I'm not altogether sure I know what's been going on with you, but I am aware that I'm not in the proper frame of mind to deal with it right now. Just pack up whatever it is you're here for, and move along. I'll stay out of your way." He then shifted his legs and stood up, effectively dumping her off of his lap and onto the floor. Draco reached out to pick up his half-empty bottle of scotch and his tumbler, and made his rather unsteady way towards the door.

Hermione sat on the wooden floor, stunned and confused, and felt once again how thoroughly she'd abandoned Draco. He had every right to be angry with her. She hadn't even known he was sick! What kind of idiot was she to leave him alone for so long? Draco didn't know how to take care of himself – not in the sense of comfort food and home remedies to cure head colds, anyway. Pepper-Up Potion didn't exist in the Muggle world.

She followed him out into the stairwell, only to find Draco standing with his forehead propped against the door of their flat, trying to punch in the passcode with one shaky finger. Hermione ignored his hiss of surprise when she placed her hand on top of his and entered the code. Then she slipped one arm around his waist as she took his keys to unlock the door and guide him inside. He didn't seem very pleased with her assistance either, as she led him towards their bedroom.

"What are you doing?" Draco asked as she pulled him towards the bed. She sat him on the edge and knelt at his feet to remove his shoes and socks.

"I'm taking care of you, silly. It's my job, you know, as your girlfriend to take care of you when you're sick. If I'd known, I would have been here sooner-"

"I don't need you to come take care of me, just so you can scarper off once I'm better. You have other things to do, Hermione. Just… go do them." Draco sat the bottle and tumbler down on his bedside table, and then rested his head in his hands. "I can't see you right now, all right? I'm kind of having a rough night, and having you here is just making things worse."

Hermione shoved aside her guilt and panic as she took in Draco's defeated posture. He was in terrible shape, and it was really all her fault. He didn't deserve what she'd put him through. She placed her hands over his once again, and leaned in to rest a kiss on his forehead.

"Draco, listen to me, please," she whispered.

Draco shuddered under her touch, which she took for a good sign, but he didn't seem willing to listen to her just yet, as he immediately pulled away from her.

"Why the fuck should I listen to you?" he asked as his body slumped backwards into their pillows. Hermione went back to his shoes as Draco pushed the heels of his hands into his running eyes.

"You haven't listened to a damned word I've said for the past month, Hermione. Now bugger off, okay? I-" Draco's whining rant was cut off by Hermione's mouth pressed firmly against his as she leaned over him. Hermione climbed back onto Draco's lap, but this time she settled herself firmly onto him so he couldn't buck her off. She wriggled against his protesting body as she ran her hands up his sides, over his shoulders, and across the backs of his hands, which still covered his eyes. She kissed him even though he resisted her, even though he was stiff and unresponsive. She'd earned his aloofness, she knew, and Hermione had to repair the damage she'd done immediately before she wrecked their relationship entirely.

She ran her hands down Draco's stomach as he coughed and tried to bat her away from him. Ignoring his protests, she snagged the hem of his jumper and tugged it up his body, and pulled it over his head.

"Girl, what… the hell?" Draco's muffled query drifted from underneath the jumper before his head popped out from the neck opening. Hermione met his confused and wary gaze, and leaned in to press a soft kiss against his lips.

"Draco, I've got to be the daftest idiot in Little Whinging to have left you alone for so long, but I am sorry. I love our family. I love our life we've made together. I love you more than anyone in the world. Please forgive me," Hermione whispered as she rubbed her mouth back and forth across Draco's.

Draco blinked in confusion. He was more than a little drunk, and more than a little sick, but was it possible that he was completely disoriented and hallucinating this Hermione that was wiggling so enticingly against him while declaring the words that he so desperately wanted to hear? He tried to scoot himself up into a sitting position, then Draco hesitantly lifted his hands from their position next to his hips on the bed, and pressed his palms onto the sides of Hermione's face so that he could focus on the green eyes that he'd missed so badly.

His own eyes swam. He blinked rapidly, then shook his head. "Ugh, ugh, get off, Girl. I need a tiss-" he gasped, then clamped his eyes shut and clasped his hands over his nose and mouth. He felt Hermione push a tissue over his hands just as the sneezing started in earnest.

While Draco made his way through his current bout of sneezing, Hermione set out to rid him of the rest of his clothes and get him under the blankets. She clambered off of him and tugged his belt and trousers off even as he protested to her manhandling his deathly sick arse, then she tucked his shaking, feverish body under the pile of quilts he'd previously stacked on the bed.

Draco rubbed his aching face against his pillow as he felt the pull of sleep lap against his senses. It would be so divinely easy to slip away. He'd imbibed two entire glasses of scotch in hope of just this result. He hadn't been sleeping well with Hermione and the pups gone, but once the head cold had hit, insomnia had set in. He ached, he couldn't breathe, he was perpetually cold – something which had never, ever troubled him before – and his damned head leaked like a sieve.

But she was there, and Draco imagined he could almost smell her tantalizing skin as he heard the zip of her trousers opening. He opened his eyes to see her smiling softly at him as she skimmed her jeans down her legs, then she leaned against the bed to strip the fabric off her ankles, as well as tug off her socks. Draco's eyes opened wider as Hermione stood more fully in front of him while she tugged her shirt over her head. She stood still for the briefest moment, to make sure she had Draco's attention, and then she reached behind her back and unhooked her bra. His mouth went dry as the slip of lingerie hit the floor, and he met her eyes in bewilderment.

"What are you doing?" he asked curiously. Hermione lifted one eyebrow, then tucked her fingertips under the hem of her knickers and tugged them down her legs.

"Two things, really," she whispered conversationally as she drifted closer to him. Hermione stood inches from Draco's side of the bed, and he couldn't help but notice that the sweet juncture of her thighs was a mere whisper of distance away from his hand.

"What's that?" he whispered distractedly, as his hand, all on its own, snuck out from under the covers to curl against the exposed skin of her hip.

Hermione looked down at her boyfriend's hand as it cautiously touched her leg. It had been weeks since they'd made love properly, and she missed his touch.

"Draco, I've neglected you so badly," she whispered as she leaned over him and pushed the mountain of blankets away from his body. She was beyond relieved to see that, despite the fact that he'd had a lot to drink, his body was already responding to her. She lightly stroked her fingers down the length of his emerging erection as she knelt on the mattress next to him. Draco gasped and twitched, and looked at her distrustfully.

"Yessss… you have. I don't really see why that gives you the right to do to me what you're doing now, Hermione. Is that why you're here, for a shag?" Draco tried to turn away from his persistent girlfriend, but she'd grabbed onto his cock with a grip that kept him firmly in place.

Hermione held Draco down with one hand on his hip and one hand on his length, and then she climbed on top of his lap, resting her seated weight on the tops of his thighs. She gently rocked against his erection as her now free hands drifted up to help him sit up in the bed.

"Draco," she whispered, "I love you, I want to be with you, and I miss you. It feels like you miss me too, at least this much," she said with a gasp as she slid upwards, then she dragged her body down to engulf his erection inside her heat.

Draco grunted as she took him, and fought to keep his anger and self-control, even as his head spun and his senses swirled to the beat of Hermione's hips as she rocked against him.

"For God's… sake, Hermione… I'm half dead. Why are you doing this… now, when I can barely… breathe?"

"Mmm… two reasons, Draco… ahh… I told you," Hermione gasped and sighed as she pulled her chest flush against her boyfriend's, then nuzzled against his jawline.

Draco glowered at his girlfriend, even as her face flushed with desire and her eyes slipped closed. He thought of the way she'd been ignoring him, how she hadn't looked him in the eye in nearly a month, and was suddenly furious.

"I asked you a God-damned question, Hermione! Just what the fuck do you think you're doing to me, now, after all this time?" he ground out as he grabbed the tops of her hips to stop her movements.

Hermione's eyes snapped open to the unfamiliarly angry face of her boyfriend. She was startled by how much he looked like the old Draco in that moment, that boy from school who'd sneered and insulted her at every turn. Shite, maybe she had made a mistake in engaging him like this. Cautiously, she placed her hands on top of his, and rolled her hips while gazing directly into his angry eyes. He hissed, and blinked in confusion before anger came back to the forefront.

"Draco, listen to me," Hermione said as she ground her body down on top of his. His huff of breath gusted across her mouth just as she rose back up. She slipped back down again, and couldn't help moaning a little at the delicious feeling of their bodies coming together after so long apart.

"I'm listening," he grunted.

Hermione nodded, and wrapped her arms back around his neck. "Good. All right, well, see, I was thinking that it might jump-start our reconciliation, you know? I know I've made a mess of things between us, and I'm really sorry. I want to try to make it up to you in any way I can. I have missed this, and I think you have too. And the other thing is that sex is really a great home remedy for colds. You just looked so utterly sad and miserable earlier, I thought maybe if I, er, took care of you tonight, so to speak, you'd feel better by morning-"

"You mean to tell me you're sitting here on top of my cock as some kind of pity shag?" Draco asked furiously. "Fuck you, Hermione," he snapped, and grabbed the tops of her arms to pull her off of him.

Hermione glared defiantly at her angry lover. "Go ahead, Draco," she taunted. Then she ripped his hands off her arms and wrapped herself up close around him so that she could whisper in his ear, "I know you want to."

Draco pulled back sharply and looked at his girlfriend's proud and challenging gaze. Then he reared up and pushed her off of him, throwing her backwards onto the bed. Before Hermione could even catch her breath he was on top of her, with her left leg thrown over his shoulder and his hands pressed down on her shoulders, pinning her to the mattress as he slammed into her…

Hermione screamed.

Draco swore and drove into Hermione's core, harder and harder, even as his ragged breathing hitched and stuttered and stars swirled in front of his eyes. In his drunken, angered haze, words started pouring out of him as he thrust into her.

"Fucking… left me… won't even… look at me… Ahh! Good God, I'd give… Ah, fuck, Hermione… I'd fucking give… I've given you… fucking everything… Shit, ohh, shit that's so… God, I can't fucking breathe… you… ngh… you left me! You left… ngh…" Draco cursed and groaned and closed his eyes against the sight of Hermione, struggling to keep up with him as he used her body. He was so close, and so angry, and so-

Draco gasped as Hermione's small hands gripped his face to pull him down into her kiss. He allowed himself to be dragged down, even as his hips stuttered and his orgasm stole away the last of his breath. Hermione kissed him fiercely as he shuddered into her, then she broke away from him and whispered softly, "I know, baby. And I'm so sorry."

Draco blinked stupidly. His full weight was crushing Hermione flat. He was sweaty, post-orgasmic, one hundred forty percent mucus filled, and still fairly intoxicated, but-

"Did you just call me baby?" he asked as his surprise swept his frustration to the side.

Hermione flushed. "Oh, er, yes I suppose I did. Sorry," she mumbled.

Draco couldn't help but grin down at Hermione's embarrassment. "You know, Ms. Granger, that's got to be just about the silliest nickname one adult could give another adult. It's emasculating and belittling. Are you entirely sure that's what you want to do right now?"

Hermione groaned, and tried to push Draco off of her. "I'm sorry, all right? I couldn't help it. I hear it in my head all the time when I think of you, and it just slipped. I didn't mean it to be emasculating or belittling. I can't help it. You're just… mine," Hermione bit her lip as her cheeks flushed.

"Your baby?" Draco asked incredulously. "That's utterly ridiculous, Hermione. If I were your baby, you'd be the worst mother of the year. You left me alone, took away all of my favorite toys," here he leaned up and dragged his hand across her breasts and down her belly to her sex, "and you kept my pets from me. Worst. Mum. Ever," he enunciated, then rolled off of her and grabbed for his tissue box as the inevitable coughing and sneezing hit.

Hermione sat up and rubbed his back as cough after cough wracked Draco's body. "Draco, I may be the worst Mum ever, but I just shagged the phlegm out of you. So, go on into the bath, _baby_, and take a hot shower to loosen up your chest, and I'll make you some tea."

"Ugh, are you really going to call me that?" Draco groaned as he stood off the bed to hobble his way towards the shower.

Hermione shrugged one shoulder as she delicately set her feet on the floor. Ouch. Draco had been rather rough with her, and it had been a long while since they'd last been together. She wasn't going to complain though, as long as it led them towards reconciliation. She wouldn't even complain about the lack of orgasm. It was a small price to pay for the neglect she'd paid out towards him.

"You know, _baby,_ if you don't like it, you can tell me," she called out helpfully as the water in the shower turned on. All she heard in return was loud, deep coughing. Hermione smiled. He'd be better in no time at all with her help. She may have made a grievous error in leaving Draco alone for so long, but Hermione Granger was not one to make the same mistake twice.

/…../

Draco stood in the door frame to their bedroom, a glass of orange juice in his hand, and observed the sleeping woman in his bed. Once the morning sun had hit him, his eyes had snapped open, the warm body next to him had shifted, and the night before came to the forefront of his thoughts.

She was back.

There were even two small-ish and wriggling white pups at the foot of the bed. They'd grown since he'd last really gotten to observe them. Artemis was still smaller than Apollo by a good kilogram or two, but they'd both put on weight and height in the past weeks.

Draco's chest tightened in despair at the thought. He'd done nothing wrong, and he'd been pushed to the side. And with that, he'd missed out on Artemis and Apollo's latest growth spurt.

Groaning sounds and shuffling of pillows alerted Draco to the imminent arrival of Hermione's consciousness. He sipped at his juice as he observed the mass of wavy brown hair with some trepidation. Last night had been a surreal experience, but one thing he knew for sure: he'd used her fairly roughly. She would either be sore and angry, or sore and withdrawn…

Dread tugged at him as he considered she'd probably just take off again.

Hermione snuggled deeper into her pillows, which were decadently scented just like her favorite scent: Eau de Malfoy. She wiggled closer to the center of the bed and reached out for Draco's body. She felt warm sheets, but otherwise his space was empty.

Hermione sat up.

"Looking for someone?" Draco asked from the doorway. Hermione brightened at his voice, and then shrank back at the look on his face. Draco had his stoic mask on.

"Draco-" she began, but the puppies had perked up at the sound of Draco's voice, and he knelt down on the floor to greet them when they jumped down from the bed to whine and wag their adoration to their adoptive pseudo-father.

Hermione watched as Draco tousled ears and rubbed bellies as he visited with the puppies. Forget idiocy, she'd been absolutely awful to Draco by keeping the puppies with her and not bringing them home. She owed him far more than an apology, she owed him – she gulped down her pride – an actual honest explanation.

"What time are you leaving?" Draco asked levelly from his position on the floor.

Hermione jerked up from her unhappy thoughts. "What time am I… oh, for church? Well, I don't need to be there for a couple of hours yet. It's quite early," she said.

Draco stood and wiped his hands on his trousers, then nodded, all while still looking at the floor where the puppies played. "Well, you best start getting ready then. I'll take these two out for a walk. Don't suppose you'd consider leaving them with me when you go this time, would you?"

Hermione blinked in confusion. "When I go to church? Are you not coming also?" she asked.

Draco narrowed his eyes and finally looked up at her. "You know that's not what I'm talking about, Hermione."

Hermione sucked in a deep breath. He still thought she had just popped in for a visit; that she planned to leave again. 'Fix this, now Hermione Granger, or lose him forever,' she commanded herself sternly as she twisted her hands together in her lap.

"No," she said forcefully. Draco cocked his head the side. "I'm not leaving, Draco. I mean, yes, I need to go to church this morning, as it's the only day of the week that I actually work, but after that I'm coming home with you. Ginny doesn't need my help as much anymore, and I thought it was high time I came home. Don't you?" She looked at him calmly as she silently begged that he would just happily agree with her reasoning.

Draco stalked over to the bed. "Bullshit," he hissed. "I'm going to get these dogs outside, but when I come back, Little Girl, you surely as hell better have a more decent answer than this to explain yourself. At this point, I have no doubts that as soon as my back is turned, you'll disappear." With that, he turned on his heel and beckoned Artemis and Apollo to follow him to the front door.

Twenty minutes later, Draco stood back inside the Fortress and stared at Hermione. She was freshly showered and dressed for the morning, but her stance indicated she intended to spend her morning fighting, not in religious contemplation.

"Draco Malfoy, you listen to me now. I. Am. Not. Leaving. This is my home. This is OUR home. Get that through your unbelievably thick head right now, because if you don't, so help me I will give you hell on Earth," Hermione snapped.

Draco thought she might look a little more menacing if she were to stamp her foot, or possibly snuggle a kitten. He rolled his eyes and turned away from her so that he could feed the puppies.

"Whatever, Hermione," he called over his shoulder. "You and I both know that the great Hermione Granger makes all the rules, and whatever she says is always right. Well, knowing this, I can at least see that you'll take off as soon as Ginny calls for help. Or someone else who desperately needs your expert aid. Look at what you did when you first stumbled into me at the Library: you devoted all your time and attention to yours truly, but as soon as someone newer and better came along to snare your attention, you were gone. Just admit it and we'll work something out, visitation or some shite, so you can keep on doing whatever the hell you want."

Draco's bitter words dropped like lead weights onto Hermione's shoulders, dragging her down with their long reaching accusation. She screwed up her eyes to fight back the hot tears that threatened – she was not going to break down like a girl now – and blurted out, "I was embarrassed, all right?! Good God, Draco, I've never been so embarrassed in my life! I just didn't know how to talk to you after, and I'm sorry, but I was just so ashamed of what I'd done! Haven't you ever said or done something so stupid, that you just wanted to run, that you'd give anything to take it back?!" Hermione's hands flew up to her face to cover her eyes. 'No, no tears, not now, damn it,' she thought to herself.

Draco turned around slowly at her unexpected rush of words. "Embarrassed? What the bloody hell are you going on about? What the hell is there for you to be embarrassed over? The arrival of the Weasley's in Little Whinging? Because this… whatever the fuck it is that's going on between us, has been going on since the night Jamie was born. And it's driving me mad, Little Girl. I can't live like this." Draco shook his head as Hermione continued to rub her fists into her eyes.

"Look at you," he said sadly. "You don't even look at me anymore when I talk to you."

Hermione gasped and pulled her hands away from her eyes, and Draco was surprised to see that her gaze, while directed at him, was tear-filled. That wasn't what he'd been expecting.

"_Draco_," she whined, "I practically begged you to ask me to marry you. Ugh, and kids! 'Experimental breeding,'" she said self-mockingly. "God, if that wasn't the most pathetic, inhumane thing I've ever done to another person in my life… For pity's sake Draco! I'm an independent grown woman, not some idiotic, simpering school-girl! I shoved you into a corner with no escape and just stood there like an arse waiting for you to make up your mind! And I'm so bloody sorry, I swear I never would have done that under normal circumstances – what are you doing?" Hermione cut herself off as Draco stalked across the room towards her.

Draco stopped inches in front of his girlfriend's shaking body. He glared down at her as he searched her eyes for the rest of the truth. His shoulders sagged as he took in her pitiful, guilty expression. The stupid bint had been hiding out at Ginny's because she was embarrassed.

That damned conversation about marriage and babies that he'd accidentally started, that he'd miserably stumbled over, had been weighing on her this much. So much that she'd rather not see him than face what she felt like was her own shame.

Draco shook his head. "You've got to be taking a fucking piss, Hermione! You've been avoiding me for a fucking month, because you were embarrassed? You tore our family apart over something so insignificant as your self-bruised ego? You have got to be the most unbelievably stupid cow in Surrey." He turned his back and stalked towards their closet.

Hermione flinched at the insult, and said weakly, "For what it's worth, I didn't mean it, any of it. I feel horrible for backing you into a corner like that. And I know I completely over-reacted, but I just couldn't stop thinking of the way you sat there and said 'fucking horrible'. It just played over and over in my mind, and it was just sort of…easier… to help Ginny out with Jamie than to face you." She wrung her fingers together, and then tried to wipe away the traitorous tears that had escaped.

Draco was rummaging around in the back of their closet.

"What are you doing?" she asked, all curiosity.

"What I would have probably done sometime in the past month if you hadn't been fucking hiding from me," his muffled voice came from the depths of their clothing.

Hermione paced to the bed and sat down cautiously to await Draco's re-entry to their conversation. He suddenly turned and looked at her, and said forcefully, "when I said that was fucking horrible, I wasn't talking about you, Girl. I was talking about myself! For God's sakes, you've got to realize you weren't the only person involved in that conversation! You didn't start it, I did!" He held his hands behind his back, and slid down the wall next to the closet to sit on the floor facing her.

"You should know," he continued quietly, "I never thought you did anything wrong that evening; that was all on me. But what you've done in the aftermath, Hermione… I've never seen you behave so selfishly."

Hermione's face burned as if Draco had smacked her. Her and her damned selfish pride. Shame overwhelmed her, but she struggled to hold her emotions in check for the sake of saving her battered relationship.

"I don't see it like that at all, Draco. Not the selfish part, yes I agree with you entirely on that. I think we can go ahead and agree that this is a major flaw in my character. But that night, I was horrible to you! I had no right to attack you like I did! For heaven's sake look at how young we are! It's not like you're some average bloke that could just happily settle down with the first girl he gets in a committed relationship with. You have obligations and responsibilities to your family, despite your time here in Little Whinging. Ugh, you're Draco bloody Malfoy, and I keep forgetting that you're actually _someone_ to the world!" Hermione wailed and threw herself back on the bed.

Draco considered Hermione's words. He supposed that technically she had a point that he would have some obligations to his family's holdings once his sentence was finished, but other than that –

He shook his head. He'd been fighting for how many years now for his freedom?

"Hermione, after all these months, don't you know me at all?" he asked softly.

Hermione sat up. "Of course, and that's the point, Draco! You're one of the wealthiest, most powerfully connected and eligible bachelors in all of Europe, Wizarding and Muggle! And I'm just…"

Draco lifted an eyebrow. "Don't you think you're one of the wealthiest, most powerfully connected and eligible bachelorettes in Britain, Wizarding and Muggle?"

Hermione scoffed dismissively.

Draco withdrew his hands from behind his back, and rolled the velvet box over and over in his fingertips. "You see, the thing is, I thought we were a brilliant match, Little Girl. I've thought so for ages. A few weeks before Christmas, I asked the jeweler up on the high street to make something for me. It's for you, really. It took him several weeks to get exactly what I wanted, but I picked it up three days before Jamie was born." He looked up at Hermione's white face, and her frozen form, and frowned.

"I'm just a person, Hermione. I'm not Draco the Muggle, or Draco the Wizard. I'm Draco. Just… Draco. Is that enough for you? Is it too much?"

Hermione nodded dumbly. Her jaw was dangerously close to becoming unhinged and dropping to the floor. Was Draco actually holding a… a… "Oh, my God."

Draco sighed, and slid the box into his pocket. "I didn't mean to put you on the spot, Girl. I just wanted you to know that we were on the same page that night. I just couldn't get the words out. You surprised me, and then you gave me no time to recover." He chuckled mirthlessly as he stood up and brushed at his trousers. "It's not like I've ever done it before, you know. And I only want to do it one time. Honestly, I don't think now is the time, do you?"

Hermione fluttered her hands uselessly in front of her, then ran them over her head, down over her eyes, and rested them on the sides of her mouth.

"I very nearly ruined everything for us, didn't I?" she whispered brokenly as she gazed up at him. Draco extended his hands out to her, and she put hers into his so that he could pull her up from the bed. He released her hands and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, and Hermione groaned in relief as she melted into his chest and wrapped her arms around his waist.

"I don't honestly know, Hermione. Maybe not. I really do like the Fortress. You would have had an awfully hard time getting rid of me. I'm sure we'd have found our way back to each other somehow, even if you had carried on with your attempt at the title of Britain's largest chicken." Draco rested his head on top of hers.

"Bok, bok," Hermione quipped ruefully.

"Lovely. But there's that other tiny little issue too," Draco mumbled as he stroked his hands up and down Hermione's back. Holding her in his arms again was utter bliss.

"What's that?" Hermione asked as she nuzzled her nose into his collar. Mmm, Eau de Malfoy. She had missed him so much, and had been so careless with him. How could she carry on calling herself an intelligent woman after making such a huge blunder?

"Well, there is the fact that I'm desperately in love with you. It's quite pathetic, really, the hold you have on me," Draco said lightly.

"Oh, thank God!" Hermione cried. "I was starting to think I'd gone and buggered everything up!" She looked up as Draco started to chuckle.

"What's so funny?" she asked.

"Mmm, that's supposed to be my line, Love. After all, as the male in this relationship, I should be doing the buggering, not you," he said, tongue-in-cheek, then waggled his eyebrows salaciously at her.

Hermione's nose crinkled. "Oh, just… eeeew, baby! Oh, that's utterly vile! Ugh!"

Draco laughed and released her, only to tangle their fingers together and tug her towards the living room and front door. "Come along, my squeamish Little Girl, we need to get you to the church on time. Now, how would you like to get the esteemed honor of being the first passenger in my new car?"

Hermione paused in her attempt to reach her jacket and bags, and looked at her boyfriend. "Your what?"

Draco smirked. "Oh yes. See, I told you last night, didn't I, that there are a great deal of things we still don't know about each other."

The puppies were cuddled up in their basket as Draco pulled his coat on. Apollo had Artemis's ear tucked into his mouth, and Artemis was lazily licking Apollo's foot. Draco sighed happily. At least some things hadn't changed. He gestured down towards the pups as Hermione tugged her gig-bag across her back.

"I don't want to go out after church, Love. Let's just come home, all right? We've got some catching up to do," Draco said, and then he helped her pull her hair out from the collar of her jacket.

Hermione nodded and gazed up thoughtfully at her wonderfully, beautifully made boyfriend. She sighed. "I love you, baby." Then she blushed as Draco's eyebrow lifted.

"Really," he said.

"Er, yeh, that's sort of embarrassing. I need to stop that immediately," she mumbled.

"I don't mind if you're embarrassed, Love. Just, don't run off. Stay with me," he implored. Then he leaned down, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, kissed Hermione Granger square on her pink lips.

And all was right. Perfect even. The ring box in his trouser pocket felt lighter than air, and brighter than any neon sign. She knew, and he knew, that they could heal their rift easily, as long as they faced each other with complete honesty.

/…../

Hermione and Draco walked, hand-in-hand as was their nature, across the stairwell and into the storage room. As they passed the still uncovered piano that sat near the center of the room, Hermione asked a question that had been tugging at her since she'd found him the night before.

"Sooo…"

"No."

"What? You didn't even know what I was going to say!"

"Psh, yes I did. Oh, Draco, wouldn't it be ever so much fun to play duets together! Oooh, and just think, if we could get you up on the stage at church!" Draco batted his eyelashes as he spoke in a high falsetto.

Hermione giggled and poked him in the side. "Number one, I do not sound like that, and number two, I'm not an idiot. I have no doubt in my mind that you would much rather hang by your toenails from the ceiling of the church than get up on the stage. Besides, if you've been hiding your piano skills in all this time you've watched me sing and play, it indicates your complete lack of interest in collaborating with me."

"Good Girl," Draco commended, and patted her on the bum. "Now get moving, we're going to be late."

"But, really, I wanted to know: the song you were playing last night. What was it? Did you write it? Where did you learn to play like that?"

Draco eyed her cautiously, and ran a hand over his cropped hair. It was cold, too cold, and he was still too sick to run about hat-less. He dug a woolen hat out of his jacket and tugged it over his ears, then looked back at the piano as Hermione pushed open the gate for the elevator.

"I didn't write it, no. My mother did. She called it 'the children's song', and as far as I know, it took her a few years to compose it. She started before I was born, and had it completed by the time I was five. Made me play it all the bloody time. She was teaching it to me, forcing it on me really, when I set her piano afire."

"That wasn't very nice of you, Draco. It seemed like a lovely song," Hermione said.

"Yes, well I was five, wasn't I? Give a boy a break, eh? I've always thought it was a bit dark to be a children's song, not really nice enough to be a lullaby. But, anyway, yesterday was Mother's birthday, and the one thing that always pleased her more than anything was for me to play her than damnable song. Even when we were at Hogwarts, I'd get special permission to come home for Mother's birthday, and she'd always have me play for her." Draco sighed as the elevator descended to the garage.

"Well that sounds really quite nice, Draco. I'm sure wherever your Mum is now, she was listening," Hermione said quietly, and squeezed his hand.

"Oh, I don't doubt that at all. Very few things made Mother happy, but for some unfathomable reason, she really loved watching me play her composition. I was such a rotten kid. I gave her so few reasons to be happy while she was still alive. So, while I don't particularly care to play the piano, I can't think of any reason to not continue to play for her on her birthday. She was quite possibly the only good part of my childhood," Draco said as he shuffled his feet.

The elevator opened, and the morning sun shone on Draco's new car.

"It's a Porsche!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Mmm, yes it is. I've always said I'd look fantastic driving one, and now you get to see the truth in person. You are truly fortunate, Little Girl," Draco gloated, his temporarily maudlin mood swept aside by materialistic – and narcissistic - glee.

Hermione smirked. Draco looked proud as a peacock next to his new toy. She gestured towards it. "Well, aren't you going to do the honors?" she asked.

"Are you joking?" Draco declared playfully. "You should be opening the door for me, the way I've been treated."

Hermione tilted her head to the side to better observe Draco's expression. He was still sick, and maybe still a bit shattered, but better. Definitely better. The generally calm and buoyant Draco that she'd been sharing her life with was still very much in residence. His smile wasn't as broad as it had been, but it was still genuine, and it was directed towards her.

Hermione walked over and opened the driver's door for her boyfriend. "Go on then, my dear, and allow me to bask in your fantastic-ness. But then we really must hurry," she said as she gestured grandly towards the interior.

Fifteen minutes later they walked hand-in-hand up the steps of the church and into the sanctuary. Just before they opened the door, Draco pulled Hermione to a stop merely by dragging his thumb across the back of her hand. She gasped at the electric current that zipped through her body, and looked sharply up at her boyfriend.

"Did you feel that?" she hissed.

"Mmmhmm. Every time," he replied, and leaned in to kiss her. Then Draco opened the large front door and pulled her inside so they could join their circle of friends.

To Be Continued.

**Author's Note: Hello again, everyone! Yes, I am very much still actively writing. Since other writers tend to give reasons for long absences, I thought you all might be interested – or at least relieved – to hear why I took so long away. I got another kid! Well, okay I actually already had this one, but Eldest has been living with her Dad for the past couple years and decided she needed to live with her Mama again while she finishes high school. So we did a big move, and my house got torn apart, and we had multiple vacations pile up on top of each other – none of this was bad, but it was all very busy. If you've been tolerating me on Twitter, you've been aware of some of our antics. Eldest is my partner in crime, and my greatest achievement to date. Geez, she's probably the same age as a lot of you, as I have a sneaking suspicion that a great deal of the people who read this story are under 18. Gasp!**

**Thanks to you all who chose to hang in and wait out my down-time, and a HUGE thanks to Phnxgirl for beta-reading for me. Seeeeeriously, huge help!**

**acro**


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